


Christmas Time in the City

by TheWeaverofWorlds



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Ballet, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Miracles, Christmas Parties, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Inspired by Miracle on 34th Street, Inspired by The Gift of the Magi - O. Henry, Inspired by The Homecoming, Inspired by the Nutcracker, Multi, Nonbinary Jehan, Nutcracker (ballet), Pining, Romance, inspired by it's a wonderful life, minor mentions of attempted suicide and self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8832904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeaverofWorlds/pseuds/TheWeaverofWorlds
Summary: Inspired by classic Christmas stories, this holiday fic tells the tale of a group of young people who are struggling with the true meaning of Christmas. As they try to find ways to rekindle their holiday cheer they meet one another along the way and are reminded of the true nature of the season. In the end they are united together to share in the wonder of Christmas and spend the holiday with a family they made. All it takes is a wish~





	1. A Partridge in a Pear Tree

**Author's Note:**

> I will be uploading a chapter everyday until Christmas Eve, so be sure to look for them! Thanks and have a lovely holiday season~ T.W.o.W.

Monday December 12  


Courfeyrac was standing in the airport shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was dressed in one of Combeferre's old sweaters, his coat under his arm. He kept checking his watch in what must certainly have been a comical manner, but patience had never been one of his virtues. It was only noon, but already the place was crowded with people trying to get home for the holidays. Christmas was in thirteen days and his boyfriend was finally coming home.  


Combeferre had gone to LA for a medical conference right after Thanksgiving, and would be returning to New York this afternoon. It had been hard for Courf to wait. He swore he had only survived through their constant texting and skype calls, but that was a lie. He knew he had been a nervous wreck, their friend Enjolras would certainly confirm the fact, but his waiting was almost over. Within the next fifteen minutes Combeferre would be home. Courfeyrac had never been a calm man, but these months of waiting and the harried energy of the airport had made him even less of one. He was anxious for Combeferre's arrival. He wanted to be able to kiss his boyfriend, to hold his hand, to hug him. God, he missed Combeferre. Maybe when he got back it would finally feel like Christmas.  


Overhead an announcement began, “Flight 14b has been delayed. Flight 14c is now boarding–”  


Courfeyrac's phone began to ring. Checking the caller ID, Courfeyrac couldn't help but smile.  


“Combefere?” Courfeyrac asked, holding one hand over his ear so that he might hear better.  


“Courf? Are you at the airport?” Something was wrong. Combeferre didn't sound right.  


“What is it?” Already Courfeyrac's heart was sinking.  


“I wasn't able to make the flight. I just got out of a meeting. Looks like I'll be here-”  


“For how long?” demanded Courfeyrac.  


“I don't know.” Combeferre sounded sorry. “I'm sorry, honey. I'll try to be home for Christmas.”  


Courfeyrac nodded. “I know you will.”  


“I miss you.”  


“I miss you too.”  


“Give Eleanor a kiss for me.”  


Eleanor, their cat. Courfeyrac blinked back tears. “I will.”  


“And watch out for Enjolras?”  


Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “I always do.”  


“I know you do. I'll come back, as soon as I can.” Combeferre promised.  


“I know you will.” Courfeyrac's voice broke in all the wrong places.  


“I better go. I'll see you soon. I love you.”  


“I love you too,” Courfeyrac said. His shoulders slumped as he turned to go. There was no reason for him to stay now.  


Courfeyrac drove home to the small apartment he and Combeferre shared in the city. He took one look at the homemade welcome home banner strung across the wall and began to cry. He made his way to their bedroom, and sobbed into Combeferre's pillow as he tried to fall asleep.  


-  


Around five o'clock, Grantaire entered the Koch Theatre talking with Floreal. They were both bundled up from head to toe and each had a Starbucks in their hands. Grantaire was laughing about something that had happened last night at a house party as Floreal recounted the horrid events.  


“Can you believe it?”  


“Sounds like something that would happen,” admitted Grantaire with one last chuckle.  


“I am never going anywhere without you. You keep all the skeevy assholes away from me.”  


“Glad to provide a service,” teased Grantaire.  


“I'm serious 'Taire, once they find out I'm single they flock to me like birds to an old woman with crumbs in the park!”  


Grantaire couldn't help but laugh at the comparison as he held the door open for the redhead.  


Once they had entered the warm building; they rushed off to their dressing rooms to prepare for that evening's performance. By the time they met again, they could hear the buzz of talking from beyond the grand drape on stage as the house began to fill with patrons.  


“What are you wearing to the party on Thursday?” Floreal asked in the wings.  


“What party?” asked Grantaire as he stretched.  


“Some gala being put on by one of the donors. I don't even think they care about the arts, just want to do something to make themselves feel better around the holidays.” Floreal confided.  


“Sounds like a drag,” laughed Grantaire.  


Floreal shrugged. “Open bar, chance to dress up? Sounds fun to me. Maybe I'll even meet a handsome young banker or politician who will sweet me off my feet.”  


“Ugh, defending my basic human rights to a bunch of rich Republicans, no thanks. And please tell me you're kidding about that young banker or politician.”  


Floreal only giggled.  


“You talking about the Charity Gala on Thursday?” Eponine asked coming up the stairs.  


They both nodded. “You going to go?”  


“I just talked to our producers, they want all the whole company to go.”  


“Are you serious,” Grantaire's jaw dropped.  


“Yep. Said it's good for publicity.”  


“Fuck.”  


Eponine laughed. “It'll be fun!”  


Grantaire rolled his eyes.  


“They also told me that you were allowed one drink, and need to be on your best behavior,” Eponine scolded.  


Grantaire scowled. This party sounded like no fun at all. Also what kind of idiots threw a party on a Thursday night?  


-  


Far away from the Koch Theatre, in a small little apartment under the eaves a couple was decorating for Christmas.  


“Oh, it's beautiful!” exclaimed Cosette.  


Marius was already flushed from the cold, but somehow managed to turn brighter pink at the young woman's praise. “I-I'm glad you think so. I'm afraid this will be all we'll have for Christmas.”  


Cosette smiled walking up to the little tree. It came up to just under her chin and was a little on the thin side, but it filled the small space with its fragrance. “I don't think I shall mind. Oh, Marius, it's perfect.”  


“I'm glad you like it, darling.”  


“It shall go right here,” Cosette gestured to the space she had cleared for it only that morning. “And we can decorate it with popcorn and dried cherries, and paper ornaments!”  


Marius watched contentedly as Cosette passionately described how lovely it would all be. Her eyes glowed warmly, and her long chestnut hair fell across her shoulders and back as she moved her arms to gesture to the tree. She was so beautiful, and he was so in love.  


She looked radiant, but he still felt bad. After their marriage he had expected to get a raise at work and instead he had lost his job. Now they were forced to live in the cheapest apartment they could find in Brooklyn, far away from her father and their friends. For Christmas there would be no grand tree or fancy parties like in the past. All they would have was this tree and a small dinner among friends. How he wished he could get her something, but their was nothing in the budget. Instead he consoled himself with her cheery talk.  


“Won't it be lovely? Do you think it could do?”  


“It will be the prettiest tree in the whole state of New York,” Marius declared kissing her forehead. Cosette beamed.  


-  


Hours later, when Courfeyrac woke up again he saw several missed calls from Enjolras and a few texts from Combeferre. He ignored them all, knowing he would only cry. Instead he opened the glass door to the porch, and stepped out into the freezing air. Courfeyrac looked out across the city letting its grandeur sweep over him. He tried to remember how lucky he was living in his dream city with the man of his dreams. Instead he just found himself missing Combeferre. There weren't any stars due to the light pollution, all that he saw were the lights of a thousand windows lit in the darkness. He raised his eyes to the heavens and made a wish.  


“I wish for a Christmas miracle.” he sighed. His words were carried away by the winter wind to the snow laden clouds above.  


“miaow?”  


Courfeyrac turned to smile at Eleanor. “Come on, let's go back inside.”  


He picked the gray Siberian up and nestled her in his arms. He carried her back into the empty apartment, appreciating her warmth. He felt a bit foolish for trying to wish on a star, but he couldn't take the words back. They were already out in the universe, and so they would remain.  


-  


Christmas has always been a celebration of light during the darkest time of the year. It is a time to renew hope and to demonstrate love to all. It is a time for family, however you define it. What this group of individuals didn't yet know was this would be their best Christmas yet, full of warmth and love. A Christmas where they would find one another, and rekindle their Christmas spirit. All it needed was a spark, a simple wish, and everything could begin. Unknowingly Courfeyrac had made such a wish. Little did they all know that already the winds had begun to change, and the bleakness of winter began to dissipate. This Christmas truly would be full of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my Christmas gift from me to you. I am still working on my other Les Mis fic (Something Old), but I wanted to work on something for the season so I began this one. Like I said in the summary each of these story lines are inspired by a classic Christmas story, so if you want to try and guess leave your guess in the comment section below. Also I'd love any comments and or questions! Please let me know what you think! The chapters will be varying lengths, so I'm going to apologize ahead of time. And to any of you in finals week, well I hope this brightens your day!  
> May your days be merry and bright ~T.W.o.W.


	2. Two Turtle Doves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is darker than the rest (a necessary evil I'm afraid). Contains mentions of attempted suicide, and self harm. If these are triggers for you and you don't want to read I totally understand. I want you all to be safe and have a happy holiday season. ~T.W.o.W.

Tuesday December 13  


Jehan Prouvaire was whistling as they walked down 7th Avenue. They had found perfect gifts for each of their friends, and hadn't spent too much money. Although they usually looked down on the consumerist nature of their society, they couldn't help but splurge around Christmas time. They loved finding new and creative ways to show their friends that they loved them. And so eagerly they were headed back to their apartment to wrap each gift when they passed an unfortunate woman who was dressed in dirty clothes. Jehan guessed that she must be freezing, but she appeared not to notice the cold. Instead she seemed to be eying the traffic as if she was considering jaywalking. It wasn't uncommon in New York for people to do so, but there was something hungry about this woman, something that demanded she be seen. Perhaps it was because she could be considered beautiful if it wasn't for the grime that covered her. Her dull hair must certainly be an enchanting shade of blonde, and her eyes were a stunning blue if not a little bloodshot. Jehan watched her curiously for a moment just as she darted out into the street. A taxi, which had been barreling down the road swerved to miss her. Without thinking, Jehan dropped their bags and pulled the woman out of the road.  


“Stop,” she shrieked, “let go of me! Please. You must! You must let me – you have to. Please I deserve to die.”  


Jehan's heart broke. “No. Come with me. I'm getting you a proper cup of tea, and we can chat. Okay?”  


The woman's shoulders dropped, tears in her eyes. “You don't understand… I've fucked up my life too much, and the life of my baby girl. Oh god, my daughter. You don't understand–”  


The woman tried to pull away, but Jehan's grip was firm. “I don't. You're right. Why don't you explain it to me over a cup of tea.”  


The woman made eye contact with Jehan, teary eyes meeting calm ones, slowly she nodded.  


“Here,” Jehan said taking his coat off and wrapping it around her shoulders. “You need it more than I do. I'm Jehan, they/ them pronouns please. Now why don't you tell me your name.”  


“Fantine.”  


“That's a lovely name, Fantine. Now let's find a nice place for some tea, and we can have a little chat. Would that be alright?” Fantine nodded. “Good, let me just get my bags and we'll be on our way.”  


Once Jehan had gotten their things, the two of them set a brisk pace to the closest coffee shop. They made an odd pair, she in a borrowed coat and rags, Jehan in only their glittery snowman sweater, but neither minded too much. Once they had arrived at the nearest Starbucks, Jehan found a corner that was out of the way and was relatively quiet. He brought them both cups of hot tea, sat down and asked, “So why don't you tell me what's happened. Where's your daughter?”  


“I don't know?” the sob came from deep within Fantine's throat. “The last time I was in this city was twenty-three years ago. Euphrasie was only three then. I was on my way home, but mother and father wouldn't have approved of her. I was only twenty-one then, and I was unmarried. So I left her in the city.”  


Jehan's brow furrowed. “Left her in the city?”  


Fantine hurried on, “at an orphanage. They said I could return to get her at anytime...”  


“And?”  


“Things didn't go well at home. I've moved around a lot. My life hasn't been a good one, not suitable for a child. I figured it was for the best. She would grow up in a loving environment with other children and have lots of friends. I thought she would be better off without me.” Fantine explained between sobs.  


Jehan cocked his head sympathetically. “What happened?”  


“She wasn't there. I came back and –"  


“She's grown up, of course. She must be about twenty-six now.”  


Fantine's eyes flashed. “I know that! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. Not when you're being so kind to me. It's just when I came back to the city, well I came looking for her. I went to the building that used to be the orphanage to see what had happened to her, and everything was gone. There was no trace that it had ever been there. I asked around and turns out the whole family was crooked. The place was shut down only seven years after I had left my daughter there. Apparently the couple burned all the records of what happened to the children… and there are rumors that they were abusive towards them. I couldn't believe it, so I went to the city records… turns out the place closed because of an anonymous tip that the children were being neglected… and I left her there. God how could I do that to my own child?”  


Jehan took Fantine's hand and held it as she cried. “Did they say what happened to the owners?”  


“The whole family disappeared a few days before the police came. Somehow they knew, and all their files were destroyed. All the children were taken into custody of course. My Euphrasie wasn't one of them, and Lord knows what they did to her. God, I'm a horrible mother. I really don't deserve this kindness. I should be dead.”  


“No.”  


“Yes. What kind of mother leaves her daughter with people like that?”  


“You didn't know.” murmured Jehan rubbing their thumb in soothing patterns across Fantine's thin hand. “What made you decide to come look for her now?”  


“I've gotten my life under control. At least more than it was. I've got money saved up, and now own a house. I thought maybe I could find her, answer some questions. I know she's an adult now, that she doesn't need her mother...”  


“Everyone needs their mother,” Jehan said softly, tears prickling their eyes.  


Fantine cocked her head, mirroring as Jehan had done earlier. “How is someone so young, so wise?”  


Jehan pushed back his sleeves. Crossing his wrists were scars, faded now with time, but there were more than Fantine could count. Running over all of them were two long ugly scars, one on each wrist, cut vertically rather than horizontally. “Do you remember how I introduced myself? Well I've always known that I was nonbinary, or at least since I was very little. When I asked my parents about it they dismissed it, said I was just being a kid and I didn't know any better. That kept saying that until about middle school...then they started sending me to a therapist. It was talking to her that made me start cutting. She made me feel so little, so useless...my parents agreed with everything she said. I never felt so alone. I lived a lie in that house until I graduated high school. I didn't dare trying to kill myself because I was scared of what they would do. How messed up is that?  


It wasn't until my first semester of college that I attempted to end my life. I felt lower than ever. I was failing courses, missing classes, and my parents were calling me every week to yell at me. I hadn't made any friends, since I was so unhappy with myself that I couldn't. I didn't think anyone could like me for me… That's when I tried to end my life. I was sure that my parents were right, that I must have been a mistake. So I cut my wrists hoping to bleed out. Instead I ended up waking up in the hospital with my roommate sitting in the chair by my cot. Turns out he found me shortly after I lost consciousness, and called 911. A kid I barely knew, who I must have scared the crap out of. I expected him to be angry. He had always seemed angry to me. Instead he asked me to talk. He asked me why I wanted to kill myself. I tried explaining it, and he looked pissed. But he wasn't pissed at me…it was strange, he seemed pissed at the world on my behalf. I've never met someone like that, but there he was in my hospital room like some sort of archangel. We talked all night; about my shitty home life, about his; and about this club he wanted to form for people who had no where else to go. He saved my life. I don't think I would be alive if it weren't for him. So maybe that's what's made me wise, maybe that's what's shown me the importance of a good mother in a child's life. I don't know, and honestly I don't care about that right now. What I want to know is are you still considering killing yourself?”  


Fantine looked away. “No. I don't think so...but I'm scared...I don't know what to do?”  


Jehan's demeanor softened. “Maybe you should get some professional help.”  


Fantine nodded, blinking rapidly.  


“There are good people in the world. You just need to know where to look,” Jehan added.  


“Like your college roommate?”  


“Like him,” Jehan said with a smile.  


“What was his name? Your archangel?”  


“Enjolras.”Jehan said with a hint of a smile. They paused, thinking deeply on the subject, “this hasn't been a very festive chat. Do you have anywhere to stay?”  


Fantine shook her head. “I'm afraid not. After finding out about my daughter...”  


“You'll stay with me.”  


“What?”  


“I've got a couch, and you look like you need a nice hot shower.”  


“Jehan, you're too kind.”  


“It's what you need right now. I want to. Besides, I want to help you find your daughter.”  


Fantine shook her head. “That isn't possible. There aren't any records.”  


“I might know a few people. C'mon Fantine, it'll be nice. My apartment isn't too far from here, what do you say?”  


Fantine smiled wearily. “I would like that.”  


As they exited the coffeehouse, leaving all heaviness behind them, the small bell above the door rang.  


-  


Sitting alone in Central Park was a small, young man with a cane. He was thoroughly bundled up to prevent getting sick; his nose was already turning, in his mind, a worrying shade of pink. To any passerby he looked lonely and pathetic, and they would be right in thinking so. Joly was mourning the fact that he would be spending Christmas alone. He was greatly pitying himself, considering that last Christmas he had been with a beautiful woman whom he had thought loved him. They had in fact been engaged, but this year he would be spending the holiday alone. She was gone, married he had heard… and here he was sitting alone on a bench in the middle of winter. He thought of that Christmas song by Wham and couldn't help but laugh out loud.  


“Why did she leave me?” he muttered. Then he remembered their constant fights as he raced to finish his nursing degree. Her last words rung in his ears.  


“You are more concerned about your health than about me. I'm sorry, Joly, I can't be with you.”  


“Oh right. That's why.” Joly laughed again. “You know what? Fuck you, Belle. Fuck you very much.”  


“Are you alright?”  


Joly looked down from the gray sky he had been shouting to, to find an enchanting young woman standing before him. She had dark eyes, full lips, and her hair was pulled away from her face under her hat. Joly blushed as he realized he was staring. “Um. I'm fine.”  


The woman shook her head. “No I don't think you are. Come with me, you'll catch a cold sitting out here like that.”  


Internally Joly couldn't help but agree, however, if he went with the woman he would no longer be able to complain about how miserable and lonely he was. “I don't even know you,” he blurted out.  


“Name's Musichetta, and I'm on my way to a pub.”  


Joly was taken aback. “So early in the day?”  


Musichetta laughed. “I work there, silly! Now c'mon before you catch frostbite.”  


Joly nodded. “Alright. I'm Joly by the way.”  


“Nice to meet you Joly, tell you what, first drink is on the house,” winked the young woman.  


Joly couldn't help but smile as he followed the woman out of the park.  


-  


The Fezziwig was a pub located in the basement of an apartment building. It warmly lit, and filled with old wooden furniture and the smell of cinnamon. It was close to one, and the pub was already full. Coats and hats hung on every available surface, and the room buzzed with quiet chatter. Musichetta went behind the bar, tying a black apron around her waist, before gently shooing a man from a stool before her. “Now, Joly sit on this stool and tell me everything.”  


Joly looked at the man who had vacated the stool for him and asked, “isn't he going to be mad?”  


“Him? Not at all. Jacob understands the way of the world, he knows that a bartender always needs to keep a stool free for the brokenhearted. So tell me what you'll have, and then tell me what you have weighing on your chest.” Musichetta looked pleased with her play on words, as she leaned over the bar towards him. Joly was pretty sure everything she had just said was false, plus there were several other stools open, but he was flattered by the attention and didn't want to offend her.  


“I'll have the eggnog,” Joly murmured.  


Musichetta beamed. “That's my favorite. Always love a cuppa holiday cheer. Coming right up.”  


As she turned to make the drink, two men sat down at the corner of the bar. One had dark curls, cropped close to his head, the other was completely bald. Musichetta turned and upon seeing them she grinned, “my two favorite layabouts! Good to see you here lads.”  


“Musichetta! You know we wouldn't dare go anywhere else for our alcohol!” laughed the bald one. “If we did we'd have are asses kicked.”  


“Bossuet I want you to meet my new friend, Jolly.”  


“Joly,” the shorter man corrected.  


Bossuet smile grew even wider. “Nah, I'm gonna call you Jolly. You look like you could use some of it at least. Jolliness that is. Why the long face?”  


“My fiancee dumped me recently.” Joly admitted.  


“Shit.” Bossuet's dark hair companion said.  


“Dude that sucks.” Bossuet agreed. “But does that mean your life is literally a Wham song?”  


“Um...”  


“Cause that would be awesome.”  


Musichetta slapped Bossuet with her rag. “Don't be uncouth! I'm sorry about him. What was her name?”  


“Belle...Dickens. She's married now.”  


“Fuck.” Musichetta said placing a glass of eggnog before him. “Are you over her?”  


“Yes.”  


“Then why are you moping?” Bossuet asked.  


“I've never liked spending the holiday alone,” admitted Joly.  


“You don't have to. You can spend it with us,” Bossuet offered. “Well not Grantaire, cause he's busy as fuck this time of year, but still...”  


“Um you guys hardly know me,” Joly said with a slight frown. “What if I'm an ax murderer or –”  


“Well are you?”  


“What?”  


“An ax murderer?”  


“No of course not!”  


“So there's nothing we need to worry about,” Musichetta smiled.  


“But –”  


“Dude, we get it. You don't want to be alone, so why should you be?” Bossuet asked.  


“Alright. I guess, if it's no trouble.”  


“None at all.” Musichetta said with a grin. Now what can I get you boys to drink?”  


“Mulled wine.” The man whom Joly assumed must be Grantaire ordered.  


“I'll have what he's having,” Bossuet said gesturing to Joly.  


Musichetta nodded and went about to making up their drinks.  


“So what do you do, Jolly?”  


“I'm a nurse practitioner at Bellevue,” Joly replied.  


“No way! I've got a friend who works there,” Bossuet gleefully smiled. “He's a doctor there.”  


“What's his name, maybe I know him?”  


“Combeferre.”  


“Never heard of Doctor Combeferre,” Joly said skeptically.  


“He's at a conference in LA, I think. Been there for awhile, but he should be back by now?” Bossuet asked looking to Grantaire.  


Grantaire shrugged, “I don't know the guy.”  


“Oh, well if he's been away...I just started there.” Joly said.  


“When he gets back you should talk to him. He's really cool, a bit stoic, but would definitely be willing to help you with whatever.” Bossuet said cheerily.  


“How do you know him?”  


“Every time I end up in the ER he seems to be working there. Very patient man, god bless.”  


“The ER?”  


“Don't worry,” Musichetta smiled, “it's not as often as he makes it sound.”  


“What sent you to the ER?” Joly asked panic seeping into his tone.  


“I fell into a trash can,” admitted Bossuet.  


“And down a flight of stairs,” added Grantaire with a wry smile.  


“Yes, and down a flight of stairs,” Bossuet conceded.  


“And there was the time you got your hand stuck in a –” Musichetta started with a grin.  


“Are you cursed or something?” Joly interrupted.  


Bossuet laughed. “Not to my knowledge. Although it is possible that a witch cursed my great-great grandfather with my bad luck she probably missed and hit me instead.”  


“Why does all this happen to you then?”  


“I'm clumsy?”  


“That's more than clumsiness,” Joly deadpanned.  


“Okay I might have the slightest bit of bad luck,” Bossuet laughed.  


“Slightest?” Grantaire asked cocking a brow.  


“Okay, I've got a lot of bad luck, except for when it comes to my friends. Then I'm truly blessed.”  


“Aw, you're sweet,” Musichetta said.  


Grantaire just rolled his eyes. “Disgustingly so.”  


Bossuet smiled. “So R, what time do you need to be at the theatre?”  


“Theatre?” asked Joly looking at Grantaire with mild interest.  


“Yeah, the Koch Theatre. I'm one of the principals in the New York Ballet.”  


“He's dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy's Cavalier,” Musichetta bragged, “and we're very proud of him.”  


“That's incredible,” Joly said in awe.  


Grantaire's cheeks darkened, “thank you. They're making it into more of a big deal than it is.”  


“We are not!” Musichetta protested.  


“She's right, you and 'Ponine have both worked so hard to get to this pointe and we are proud of both of you.”  


“Was that a fucking pun?” Grantaire asked.  


“Who's 'Ponine?” Joly asked looking from Musichetta, to Bossuet, and Grantaire.  


Bossuet merely grinned shittily.  


“'Ponine is one of my dearest friends, like a little sister to me. I helped her out a rotten situation once, and now look at her. She's finally made principal and is dancing as the Sugar Plum Fairy. I hope to go see her when I have a night off.” Musichetta sighed.  


“So when is your call?” Bossuet asked returning to the question that had started the whole thing.  


“Five-thirty,” Grantaire sighed dramatically. “But I've got some errands to run. Promised to help Floreal pick out a dress for the Charity Arts Gala for Thursday, ugh.”  


“Not looking forward to it?” cooed Musichetta with a fake frown.  


“It's put on by some rich family who doesn't even like ballet, but feels they should do their Christian duty and support the arts, blah blah blah. Kill me now.”  


“Rich? They'll probably have decent booze,” Bossuet said.  


“Not like I'll get any. Turns out I'm to be on a tight leash,” Grantaire murmured gloomily, “Apparently the press will be there.”  


“Woof,” lowed Bossuet.  


Grantaire and Musichetta both laughed, Joly only looked confused.  


“What a fucking nightmare. I can only have one drink tomorrow night. No fancy, rich, Republican booze for me. Boohoo.” Grantaire downed the rest of his drink in one go. “Well I better help Floreal with her clothes, Lord knows that woman is indecisive. I'll see you all later. It was nice to meet you, Joly. Watch yourself around these two, they get handsy when they're drunk.”  


Musichetta's jaw dropped. “We do not get handsy. Take that back, R!”  


Grantaire merely shrugged as he put on his winter coat and left.  


“Screw him,” Musichetta frowned.  


“He's just jealous. God knows all he has is his hand,” Bossuet teased.  


“Oh you're bad, L'Aigle!” Musichetta laughed. “But seriously R needs to find someone. It's been long enough.”  


“L'Aigle?”  


“My last name, but I prefer Bossuet. I only get called L'Aigle when I'm in trouble.”  


“So are you two a couple?”  


Musichetta nodded. “Sorta.”  


“Labels are complicated for us.” Bossuet agreed. “Tell me, Jolly, have you ever gone ice skating at Rockefeller Plaza?”  


“Um, no.”  


“Okay, I'm taking you. You'll love it.” Bossuet smiled. “Maybe not today, but you'll love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two as promised. Thank you for reading, please feel free to leave a comment below if you have any questions or guesses about the stories! I love reading them, and they make my day so much better. Chapter three will be up tomorrow!  
> May your days be merry and bright ~ T.W.o.W.


	3. Three French Hens

Wednesday December 14  


Bahorel was woken up by someone jumping on him. “Oof.”  


“Wake up!”  


Bahorel cracked an eye open to find his upstairs neighbor's little brother poking him with his toe.  


“Gav, isn't it a bit early for you to be down here?”  


“Nope, it's noon. 'Ponine told you quote I have errands to do before going into the theatre, and that Gav will be coming around noon so you had better be decent unquote,” the little boy recited. “You are decent, under those blankets, aren't you?”  


“How did you even get into my apartment?”  


“I found your spare key. Hiding it in a fake rock might be clever, but only if there are other rocks around it,” Gavroche pointed out.  


Bahorel groaned. “Fine go to the living room and watch something. I'll join you once I'm 'decent'.”  


Ten minutes later, Bahorel was dressed and a little more ready to face whatever the havoc the ten year old was ready to wreck upon him. He poured himself a bowl of cereal before sitting across from the kid.  


“What would you like to do today?” He asked between bites.  


“We could watch television.” Gavroche said not looking away from the screen.  


“That's what you said yesterday,” reminded the older man gently. “How about exploring the city a bit. We could go to Herald Square.”  


Gavroche shrugged.  


“It's almost like you don't like Christmas,” Bahorel teased.  


Again, Gavroche shrugged.  


Bahorel's easy smile vanished. “Do you not like Christmas?”  


“Christmas never really meant that much to me. My parents didn't do anything for me as a child, I'm sure 'Ponine has told you what a shit show they were. And since Eponine's became my guardian, I've always known all my presents come from her. I tell her what I want, and so long as it's not dangerous or too expensive, I get it. Sometimes Azelma will send me something from college but...” Gavroche just shrugged again.  


Bahorel frowned. He knew most kids stopped believing in Santa by Gavroche's age, but usually they were still excited for Christmas. Gavroche seemed completely indifferent. “Can we play some video games.”  


Bahorel nodded. He watched Gavroche pull out the xbox controllers, all the while scheming how to change the child's mind. He had always loved Christmas, everything about the season made him happy. He just wished the child could see some of the wonder as well.  


-  


Marius walked down the streets of New York City like a man on a mission. He was on his way to see an old friend about buying Cosette a Christmas present. He had thought long and hard about his decision, and expenses be damned he wanted to buy his wife something she would like.  


It wasn't long before he reached his destination, a small little shop that looked like it belonged in the nineteenth century. It was owned by an old family friend of his, someone who was sure to understand the delicate position Marius was in. The shop bell rang, and from the back appeared an old man who reminded Marius of a kindly old tortoise.  


“Marius, it has been a while.”  


“Good afternoon, Mr. Mabeuf. I came to your shop hoping to find a gift for my wife for Christmas.” Marius said taking off his hat and wringing it in his hands.  


Mabeuf smiled kindly. He had remembered being invited to the wedding. Vaguely he could picture the young woman who had been in white. She had been beautiful, with long chestnut tresses that curled, still hung to her waist. But even more than that, Mabeuf remembered her smile. She had lit up at the prospects of marrying Marius, and that's what made the old man happiest. The two of them, although they had fallen into hard times currently, were content together.  


“I'd love to offer my services in anyway possible,” the old man said.  


Marius thanked the man and then began looking around the shop. Over the years Mabeuf had collected all sorts of odds and ends which now lay scattered across the shelves of his antiquities shop. One never knew what they would find in a shop like his, but they always left satisfied. It wasn't long before Marius found himself drawn to a pair of hair combs made out of brass and inlaid with mother of pearl. Flowers fanned out across the top, and green enamel was used to create leaves along the base of the comb. In the center most flower lay a pale opal as small as a baby's first tooth. The delicate carving below the flowers held pale sapphires so clear they almost looked gray. Marius studied the combs, envisioning them tangled in Cosette's long locks.  


“Sir, I think I've found...they're perfect.” breathed Marius.  


Mabeuf made his way over to see what Marius found, and immediately his face fell. “Marius you know I want to help you, but I won't be able to give you much of a discount on those.”  


“How much? Anything will help,” Marius said.  


“They are a hundred each, but I can sell them to you for seventy five a piece,” Mabeuf said sorrowfully.  


Marius swallowed. “Sir –”  


“Times are tough on all of us,” apologized the old man. “I need to pay my rent and utilities...not as many people come in as they used to...Find your bride something else if the price is too much and I will do my best to help you.”  


Marius shook his head. “Perhaps we can work something out.”  


From his pocket he pulled an old pocket watch. It had belonged to his mother's father, before being given to his father as a wedding present. After his father's death it had been left to Marius. It was all he had to remember his father by and after the move it was probably the most valuable thing owned by the Pontmercys.  


“Marius,” cautioned the old man.  


“I don't need it. It's just a watch,” Marius said trying to sound blithe. “How much is it worth?”  


“I'd say a hundred at least,” Mabeuf said carefully as he examined the watch.  


Marius smiled, from his wallet he pulled out the last fifty.  


“Are you sure?” Mabeuf knew Georges Pontmercy, and he knew how much the watch meant to Marius.  


“Yes.”  


“Very well. I'll hold onto this until you can pay back the last hundred.”  


Marius smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Mabeuf. Thank you so much sir!”  


The old man smiled. He would have to find another way to pay his bills, since he couldn't bring himself to sell the watch. But neither could he let Marius part with it so easily. “I'll give you til the end of the year, but after that...”  


“That will be enough time. Thank you. I'll be back with your money,” promised Marius.  


Mabeuf smiled, knowing Marius was a man of his word, and began to wrap the precious combs up in a box and brown paper. Marius tucked his special cargo into the inner pocket of his coat, and headed back to his apartment under the eaves. A smile remained on his lips as he thought about how happy Cosette would be on Christmas morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short upload for today. I apologize both for its brevity and its lateness, but I had a final today and needed to study for two more. I promise that the next one will be much better! Also this is the last chapter of introductions/exposition, so things will continue to get more interconnected as we go. I'm really proud of this story, and would love to hear your feedback. Please consider leaving a comment below. Thank you to those of you who have, and to those who have given me a kudos.  
> May your days be merry and bright,  
> ~T.W.o.W.


	4. Four Calling Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two finals and one Christmas party later and this is what you get. I really hope you enjoy it. ~T.W.o.W.

Thursday December 15  


Thursday morning and Enjolras was up earlier than usual. Today was a busy day and he felt that he needed any peace and quiet he could get. Later in the morning, he was seeing a close friend, then in the afternoon he had to help his mother oversee the final preparations for her charity gala, culminating in him having to dress up in a suit and go to the Koch Theatre to watch _The Nutcracker_. After that he had to play the role of the perfect son at a gala he dreaded attending. The press would be there, which meant that for his father's business reputation he needed to be on his best behavior. This year the ballet company had been invited, a publicity stunt claimed his mother, so now he would need to pretend to actually have enjoyed the show. He was sure there would also be some guests that would try to hit on him, something he looked forward to even less than lying about his political beliefs and tastes in art. What a nightmare.  


“Enjolras,” his mother called from down the stairs. “Make sure you have your suit for tonight laid out. I am having it sent out to be pressed.”  


Enjolras sighed. “It's on the chair by my dresser.”  


“Good. We've got a lot to do today,” His mother said as he came into view taking the stairs two at a time.  


“I know. Everything will be lovely, it always is.”  


“I just want everything to go perfectly tonight. Nanette and Lois will be decorating the tree this afternoon, and goodness knows they will need supervision, but the florist will also be bringing the arrangements and will need someone to show them where to go, not to mention the catering company will be arriving at –”  


“Everything will be fine. Now, I really must go. I promised Courfeyrac that I would meet him at eight.”  


Enjolras' mother let out a sigh. “Go then.”  


Just as Enjolras was about to step out of the front door, his mother called out, “I almost forgot to tell you! I invited Patria and her family this evening. I expect you to be charming and on your best behavior. They will be sitting with us for the performance.”  


Enjolras couldn't help but cringe. Patria was the daughter of his father's longtime business partner. For some reason their parents expected them to get married, and merge the companies into one super conglomerate that would corner the market. Enjolras had very little interest in doing such things, but Patria seemed eagerly awaiting the day of his proposal...either business or marital, he couldn't tell which and he was anxious to never find out.  


“Sounds lovely, mother.” He lied.  


“While you're out why don't you pick up an arrangement for her something nice and festive.” His mother suggested as he closed the door on her. He frowned, it was just like her to spring information on him last minute, and he didn't appreciate it. She had learned long ago how to manipulate the situation, he guessed that she had learned it by being married to his father, and often used the tactic against him.  


He caught a taxi uptown and tried to put the whole situation out of his mind. He couldn't believe how far away midtown felt from home. He lived in the same city as his parents, but here he was free from them. It was like he had a whole other life. He could hide in the city, be whoever he wanted. Life wasn't so bad there.  


When he arrived at the cafe, he found Courfeyrac already there reading something on his phone.  


“Hey.”  


Courfeyrac slowly looked up, dazed for a moment, then recognition flashed in his eyes. “Hey, Enjolras. Sorry I guess I didn't sleep too well last night.”  


“Don't worry about it. In fact I should probably apologize for being late. My mother decided to talk forever about the party, and then as I was leaving she told me that she had invited Patria.” Enjolras explained as he unwound the scarf from his neck and shrugged out of his coat.  


“Fuck.” Courfeyrac sympathized as Enjolras sat down.  


“Please tell me you're still coming tonight.”  


Courfeyrac looked sheepishly down at his coffee. “I'm not really up for a party tonight.”  


“Courf, is this about –?”  


“I miss him, Enjolras. We've never spent a Christmas apart, not since we were little kids. I'm going out of my mind with worry. I haven't been sleeping, or eating. I just want him home.” Courfeyrac said sounding desperate.  


Enjolras' shoulders dropped, all the fight in him washed away. “I'm sorry, Courfeyrac. I can't imagine how much you must miss him. But he'll be here, it's just a matter of finding the next flight –”  


“It's more than that. Apparently New York is covered in some huge super storm coming in from Canada. Haven't you noticed how gray it always is? We're under constant cloud cover, with threats of record breaking snow. There won't be anymore flights into JFK for the foreseeable future,” Courfeyrac moped.  


“This is Combeferre we're talking about. He'll find away home to you. He always does.”  


“Thanks, Enjolras.” Courfeyrac said glumly. After a short pause, “Are you sure you'll be alright tonight? We could ask Feuilly or Jehan to join you.”  


“Feuilly's got work tonight, and my parents don't exactly approve of Jehan. Besides they wouldn't have much fun tonight anyway. I couldn't ask them to do that for me.” Enjolras said resolutely.  


“What about Pontmercy?”  


“He would be embarrassed that he has nothing suitable to wear. Also I know he hates leaving Cosette alone in their new apartment. No, it wouldn't be fair of me to ask him either.”  


“Why do you have to be such a self sacrificing asshole? We're your friends, Enjolras. We want to help you.”  


“Are you sure you don't need me to stay with you tonight?”  


Courfeyrac shook his head. “I'll be alright, really. Besides if you miss this event because of me I'm pretty sure your mother will cut my dick off and serve it on one of her fancy silver platters.”  


Enjolras sighed, “you're right. Fuck that's depressing.”  


“A little.”  


And then perhaps because of their exhaustion, both men began to laugh.  


“She wants me to get Patria a Christmas bouquet,” Enjolras said between laughs.  


“Dude, that's gay.”  


“Well I mean I am.”  


“I know, but a Christmas bouquet, what the actual fuck?”  


“I know right.” Enjolras gasped.  


“I mean your mom knows you're gay, right?”  


Enjolras stopped laughing. Pensively he said, “I've tried to talk about it, but she chooses not to listen. I think we have a don't ask don't tell policy going on about it.”  
“God you're family is fucked up.”  


“Tell me about it. I can't wait to be back in my own apartment. Who knew midtown could feel like a world away...I hate to cut this meeting so short, but...”  


“I get it. Go find a Christmas bouquet for your child bride,” Courfeyrac teased.  


Enjolras made a face. “She's not that much younger than me.”  


“Isn't she twenty?”  


“I'm not going to marry her!”  


“Whatever you say, cradle robber.” laughed Courfeyrac.  


Enjolras smiled. “I've missed this.”  


“So have I...” Courfeyrac's smile faded.  


“Don't worry. He'll be home.”  


Courfeyrac nodded distantly, but already he was staring out the window as if searching for Combeferre in the crowd. Enjolras left him to his thoughts and headed to the closest florist shop.  


-  


“Have everything for tonight?” Eponine asked Grantaire and Floreal as they stood waiting in one of the many halls of the theatre.  


“My dress is hanging in my dressing room. All I need to do is my hair and reapply make up,” Floreal replied. “'Taire?”  


“I have my suit here. I'll be ready. Is someone watching over Gav tonight?”  


“Bahorel will be there,” Eponine replied, “so I can stay out as long as I want.”  


“Is that really such a great idea?” Grantaire asked. Bahorel was their downstairs neighbor, whom they were pretty sure he was a lawyer...but it was hard to tell with him. However, they did know he could be pretty destructive...so of course Gavroche idolized him.  


“He's doing me a huge favor this winter. If he causes any irreparable damage, well we'll cross that bridge when we get there,” Eponine said primly.  


“Or we won't, cause he'll have destroyed it.”  


Eponine snorted. “Okay, that too.”  


-  


Enjolras stood by the coat check, pouting. In one hand was a bouquet of red and white roses with holly artfully mixed in, in his other was a program and ticket.  
“Enjolras, stop frowning. You're acting like a child,” his mother scolded under her breath.  


“I don't see why I'm here.” Enjolras had never liked the ballet all that much. He never liked what it meant to his parents. They saw it as a charity cause, a cultured art, one that didn't take any risk or push boundaries. To them it was a safe way to feel like they were doing their part. He hated it.  


“You're here,” she said smiling falsely, “as a member of this family. Now remember, I got you and Patria your own seats for tonight. Don't mess things up between our families. Ah, Francis! How good to see you! And how are you Amanda?”  


Enjolras' father's business partner had arrived, which meant Patria must be here as well. And there she was in a navy dress standing by her father. She looked politely bored. Her light hair was pulled up away from her face, showing off the delicate structure of her neck and collar bones. It was all a show, Enjolras was sure, a show for him. He approached her, having little interest in the pleasantries being exchanged by their parents.  


“Hello, Enj,” she smiled.  


“Hello, Patria. These are for you,” he said offering her the bouquet.  


The young woman took them gracefully. “They're lovely. Who knew you could be so charming?”  


“How are you enjoying college?” Enjolras asked.  


“The classes are alright, and I know they will help me take over daddy's business when he retires, but I so wish that I could spend time in the city. I miss New York. I miss being close to you,” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes.  


“Mm,” agreed Enjolras with a slight nod.  


“And you? How are you?”  


“I'm alright,” he replied tiredly.  


“Are you still shadowing your father's company?”  


“No. I'm actually looking at some other business models at the moment,” Enjolras said carefully.  


Patria waited for him to continue, but he would not. The truth was he had very little interest in his father's company, and he was in fact looking at some pre-law programs. He had yet to tell his parents.  


“That's very impressive.” She commented after and awkward beat of silence.  


“Thank you, Patria. Shall we go to our seats?” Enjolras offered the young woman his arm, which she happily took.  


“I've never seen a ballet. Have you?” As they left the crowd of the lobby, Patria's grown up facade seemed to disappear.  


“Constantly. My mother loves to spend time raising money for the New York Ballet. She's brought me to their shows since I was quite little.”  


“Do you like them?”  


“I have yet to see a performance I enjoy.” Enjolras replied diplomatically.  


Patria frowned. “Then I don't think I shall like it either.”  


They had reached the front of the house where their season tickets were. Patria looked mildly impressed at how close they were as she took her seat.  


“Ladies first,” Enjolras offered.  


“Oh my god, I feel so grown up,” Patria said with an excited giggle, and Enjolras couldn't help but be more reminded of the age difference between them.  


Soon after, the lights dimmed, the chandelier going dark. The conductor arrived, and was greatly applauded, and then the grand drape was flown out and the show began. Enjolras found himself watching a scene he had seen many times before. Marie and Fritz were eagerly awaiting for the doors to the drawing room to be open, as they fought to be able to see through the keyhole of the door. The young dancers showed great skill, but it wasn't anything he hadn't already seen. Behind the scrim could be seen the actions of the adults, how closely it mirrored what Enjolras had been doing earlier that day. He shivered at the realization. Art truly does imitate life.  


Halfway through act one Patria leaned over and whispered, “it's all quite boring isn't it? With no talking?”  


Enjolras couldn't help but agree, however he did think it was rude of her to whisper during the performance. As the mouse battle began, Enjolras began to notice that Patria's hand had found its way onto his thigh. As things grew more tense on stage, the hand on his leg tightened its grip. Without looking at him, Patria began to slide her hand farther up Enjolras' leg. He gently moved her hand back to the armrest without taking his eyes off the stage. Again she placed her hand on his inner thigh, this time stroking him gently through the material of his pants. Enjolras grimaced slightly as he again removed her hand. He shifted so that his legs were crossed, denying her further access. Luckily she seemed to have learned her lesson, and didn't try anything for the rest of the act.  


Intermission finally arrived and Enjolras couldn't help but feel exhausted. He left with some excuse of stretching his legs, which allowed him some moments to himself. He had another whole act to go sitting next to Patria in the dark. And then after that was the party. Who knows what she might try there. Although she had concentrated on the show for the rest of act one, he still couldn't help but worry what she might try to do during the second act. He couldn't bear to think of what all those touches had meant to her, and was again reminded of their difference in age. Intermission couldn't go by quickly enough, and then act two began. The act dragged on as one sweet after another performed their routine for the young children. Patria watched with interest as one dancer, dressed in a slim pink gown and glittery floral headpiece claimed the stage. Some form of alchemy prevented her red hair from clashing with the pink petals upon her head, but even that was not enough to interest Enjolras.  


To be fair, Enjolras had never been interested by ballet. He could recognize the skill it took, but personally wasn't drawn to it like some. However, when the _pas-de-deux_ began between the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier something changed. He couldn't take his eyes off the stage. The ballerina playing the Sugar Plum Fairy was stunning. Perhaps not typically beautiful, but she had large dark eyes and full lips. Everything about her was striking. Her darker skin, contrasted with the pale pink tutu and bodice she was wearing. Upon her head was a glittering tiara. Her entire costume glimmered under the lights. She was radiant. She exuded strength and a subtle kind of power...but despite all her charm and grace it wasn't her he was drawn to. Instead, Enjolras' eyes kept following the Cavalier. He had the same dark looks as his partner. His dark curls were neatly gelled into place, and his eyes seemed to glow under the stage lights. What color they were, Enjolras couldn't tell. If asked to guess he would have said brown. The dancer's white tights showed off the musculature of his legs, and Enjolras found his eyes drifting to the dancer's crotch and ass. Tights really didn't hide anything. Enjolras wanted to thank whoever had decided men should wear tights in ballet. In fact he wanted to throw a parade in their honor because of how good this dancer looked in them. It was clear that the dancer was strong, Enjolras could tell that he was from the moment he walked on stage, but there was also a level of confidence that attracted the blond to the brunet. This dancer knew what he was doing, and knew he did it well.  


Enjolras watched the Cavalier lift his partner into the air like she was made of paper. He couldn't help but be jealous of all the looks the two dancers shared. It was clear they had an intimate bond, she trusted him and he worshiped her. They worked so closely with one another, relying so much on the other. It was intoxicating to watch.  


Already the dancers seemed to be spinning hurriedly through the _pas-de-deux_ into their variations. Enjolras watched every moment not wanting it to end. His eye tracked every movement of the dancer in white. And as the last notes of the coda sounded, Enjolras knew that he would never look at this music, this piece, the same way again. Already the orchestra had begun to play the finale. Led by the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier, dancers began to cross the stage showing off intricate steps in the final moments of the show. Each character displayed one final _pirouette_ or _grand jete_ before Marie and her Prince were flown away. The curtain fell to thunderous applause.  


“It was an impressive display,” noted Patria, “but it was merely spectacle, nothing of substance. Don't you agree?”  


And for the first time Enjolras could remember he found something very substantial to ballet. It was no longer children having wonderful dreams of magic Christmas sweets...or silly lovelorn girls chasing after handsome men...How he longed to see the Cavalier dance Sigmund in _Swan Lake_ or Albrecht in _Giselle_. However, even with all these thoughts swirling in his brain, he found himself at a loss for words, and could only nod. Patria smiled and turned her attention back to the stage.  


After the performance they were driven back downtown to Enjolras' family's townhouse, where awaiting them were waiters and waitresses at the ready. His mother gave her apologies to Patria's family as she disappeared into the drawing room to check that everything was prepared. Other guests began to arrive, and were ushered out of the cold into the foyer. Enjolras' father was kept busy shaking the hands of other important guests, and making apologies for the absence of his wife. Soon enough the doors to the drawing room were opened and guests were allowed in. Patria was kept busy so Enjolras found himself standing alone by the front door, and that's when the ballet company entered and everything went to hell.  


-  


After an incredibly successful performance, Grantaire stood with Eponine in Floreal's dressing room. The redhead was putting on the finishing touches to her makeup while Eponine helped curl her hair.  


“You two look lovely,” Grantaire said leaning against the counter easily.  


Eponine made a face, but Floreal laughed gayly.  


The two dancers unknowingly made a beautiful scene, or perhaps because they were dancers they instinctively knew how to make everything they did beautiful. Floreal was dressed in a flashy dark green gown which had beads sewn across the low neckline. The color contrasted with her hair beautifully, and the tone was offset by her pale skin. Eponine was bending over her in an uncharacteristically pale dress. It almost looked like it belonged to Wardrobe with it's pink almost cream tone and fluffy skirt. Grantaire would liked to have painted her that way, but he knew Eponine would protest. The lace of her collar lay beautifully across her throat, and Grantaire thought she looked quite like a Sugar Plum Fairy ought to.  


In some ways he felt like he was intruding upon an intimate moment between the two women. They were at such ease with each other in this quiet moment before the gala. If he had painted the scene, he would have left himself out of it. He would be wrong in doing so. Both women thought he looked splendid in his navy suit. It gave him an old world look, which was heightened by the way his hair was still gelled from the performance.  


“You don't look so bad yourself,” Floreal replied.  


“Are you ladies ready to go?”  


“Let me just unplug the curling iron,” Eponine fussed. In that moment she sounded so much like a mother, and Grantaire couldn't help but reminisce about when Eponine had helped Azelma get ready for dances. He missed the younger woman, but knew that she was flourishing out west.  


“I need to get my coat, but then I'm ready!” Floreal replied.  


It wasn't long before the three dancers made it down to the road where the rest of the company was waiting. In threes and fours they caught taxis and headed downtown to the party. Once there they waited on the sidewalk so that they could enter as a company. They filled the empty street with their boisterous chatter as they eagerly awaited to enter the party.  


Upon entering the townhouse, Grantaire's first impression was one of shock. The foyer was full of people and was decorated with red and white floral arrangements. Through a tall archway he could see what must be the drawing room, and a tree which looked like it belonged as a part of the set for the ballet. It must have been at least twelve feet tall covered in white and gold ornaments. Sitting at the top was a star that looked like it was cut from the crystal glassware his grandmother had. Grantaire was immediately overwhelmed, and disgusted by the apparent wealth which was flaunted.  


-  


For Enjolras it was like the volume had been immediately turned up, the dancers chatting loudly to one another. Their boisterous laughter filled the foyer and echoed off the high ceiling. Not only were they loud to listen to, but looking at them for too long hurt. Most of the women were dressed in ostentatious colors like birds of paradise, and the men made for suitable companions. It was a dramatic affair for them, each one trying to playfully outshine the others. Their arrival inspired journalists to flock to the entrance, so that they might take pictures, which only served to increase the noise. It was all so over the top and glamorous that Enjolras couldn't help but laugh. Uninterested by their ostentatious entrance, Enjolras turned on his heel and entered the drawing room.  


-  


After the excitement of their entrance, Floreal decided her feet were killing her, so she dragged Grantaire behind her into the drawing room. Gracefully she sat in an a chair, leaving Grantaire to stand by her. It wasn't long before she was surrounded by handsome young men, all in suits nicer that Grantaire's. From an outside perspective it was like a queen holding her court, her courtiers caught in rapt attention. Floreal flirted, and teased, and was generally charming. A drink was placed in her hand, and she sipped the champagne gracefully.  


Grantaire felt he no longer needed to stand by her, as she seemed to be holding her own, and he went off to explore. With a cursory glance around the room, he noted a handsome young man about the same age as him standing off to the side. No one appeared to be talking to him, which Grantaire thought should be a crime. He was good looking, with the high brow of a Greek philosopher and the nose of a Roman emperor. His curls reminded Grantaire of a young Antinous, wild and carefree. His lips were like a young girl's, full like a rose in bloom. How Grantaire wanted to kiss those lips, to paint them. He would dream about lips like those… And then blue eyes met green and the world fell away.  


-  


Enjolras felt like someone was staring at him so he looked up into the eyes of the Cavalier. What he had previously mistaken for dark brown eyes, were in fact green. A startling shade, so dark and rich they could almost be mistaken for brown. It was as if God had looked into a small brook and wished to preserve the color in the eyes of a man. Enjolras could be forgiven for his mistake, for from the distance of his seat to the stage, details could be lost. But this close nothing could be misinterpreted. Not the way the dancer looked when he furrowed his brow in deep thought. Or the way his eyes, those beautiful eyes, widened in surprise at being caught. Nor the way his lips parted slightly and his Adams apple bobbed nervously.  


Enjolras couldn't take it anymore. He forced his legs to start walking and approached the dancer. As a waiter passed he grabbed two glasses from their tray and once he was close enough, he offered one to the dancer.  


“Drink?”  


“I can't” the other man's voice sounded low and raspy, sending tingles down Enjolras' spine.  


“It's only eggnog.”  


“It's not spiked is it?” the dark haired stranger asked, eying the glass suspiciously.  


“Why would it be spiked?”  


“I dunno. I've got a friend who makes a marvelous spiked eggnog.” he shrugged.  


Enjolras laughed. “It isn't spiked. You have nothing to worry about.”  


The dancer smiled, and just as he was about to take the glass from Enjolras' hand it was caught by a young woman.  


“I need you.”  


Enjolras watched as a beautiful young woman in a pale gown pulled the dancer away from him. He recognized her as the Sugar Plum Fairy, although she looked different with her hair down around her shoulders. In an instant they disappeared in the crowd and Enjolras was left alone, a glass of eggnog in each hand.  


-  


Once Eponine had dragged Grantaire into the foyer he pulled his hand out of hers.  


“What was that for?”  


“We need to leave, now.”  


“Why? Have you become Cinderella, and it's midnight so your gown will change back into rags?”  


“No, but Gav needs me. Bahorel called, says the kid is throwing up.”  


“Eponine I'm sure it isn't –”  


“Please don't make me go alone,” Eponine said lowly. Instantly Grantaire was reminded of how young Eponine was, how scared she was that she would screw up as a parent. Most days she put on a good front, but she still had her insecurities which she battled with every day.  


“Alright, I'll get our coats. You text Floreal, tell her we're leaving.”  


Eponine nodded gratefully, looking grim.  


-  


Enjolras had moved to closer to the fireplace, and had set the untouched glasses down on the mantle. He then saw a gorgeous woman approaching him. In one hand she held her smart phone, in the other was a mostly empty champagne flute. She was reading a text, but then looked up to see him. A smiled formed on her lips as her pace increased. He pinched the bridge of his nose; he did not feel like dodging her flirtations.  


“By any chance are you the blond my friend was talking to?”  


“You'll need to be a bit more specific,” Enjolras replied courteously.  


Floreal, for it couldn't be anyone else, grinned. “He was in a navy suit jacket, dark hair, stunning eyes?”  


Enjolras nodded.  


“He wanted me to apologize to you for his abrupt departure. Family emergency.”  


“That's not necessary,” Enjolras protested his heart sinking. That woman, the dancer, perhaps they were married and had a child at home who needed them. It would make sense. No one that beautiful should be single.  


Floreal looked at him carefully, as if reading a page in a book. “The woman he left with… they're not dating in case you're wondering.”  


“Why would I be wondering?” blustered Enjolras.  


Floreal shrugged coolly, “from where I was sitting it seemed like you two hit it off.”  


Enjolras shook his head, “you must be mistaken.”  


“Well you can find him at the Koch Theatre any time from 5:30 to 10 most days, if you want to,” Floreal shrugged before turning to go.  


“Did he tell you to say that?”  


Floreal smiled. She turned back to face the blond cocking her head. “Did you want him to tell you how to find him?”  


Enjolras blushed.  


Floreal laughed. “Have a good night, Enjolras.”  


“How did you know my name?”  


“It's not hard to figure out. I've seen your face in the society pages plenty of times,” Floreal replied. “Besides only the son of the hosts could be allowed to stand alone for so long with no one attempting to approach him.”  


Enjolras looked at his shoes. “I never told him my name...are you going to?”  


Floreal looked at him funnily. “I don't think I will. It's more fun that way, isn't it?”  


Enjolras merely nodded, although he wasn't sure he would agree with what she had said.  


“You're a strange one,” Floreal commented, “but I will admit, you throw one hell of a party.”  


She left him alone, laughing her cheery laugh.  


However, he wasn't alone for long. Patria approached him with a frown. “Who was that?”  


“Just someone complimenting the party,” Enjolras said tiredly.  


Patria nodded, but still looped her arm around his possessively. The gesture did not go unnoticed.  


-  


Later that night, long after the party had ended and Enjolras was getting ready for bed he pulled the program out of his overcoat pocket. Through out the entire performance he had never once opened it, but now that he had the chance to he flipped through the glossy pages until he found the headshots. In the center was a picture of the man Enjolras wished he could have spent the rest of the party with. Although the black and white photo didn't fairly capture the beauty of the dancer's eyes it showed Enjolras more than he was expecting. The dancer was shirtless, glancing at the camera over his shoulder. His collar bones and neck were exaggerated by the pose and his shoulder and arm muscles were strongly defined though the art of good lighting.  


Below the picture in neat script was the name Grantaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left a comment or a kudos! You are guys are the sweetest.  
> This chapter is my birthday gift to you...and also to me because this is my favorite ship. I hope you enjoy the shenanigans Enjolras and Grantaire have gotten up to, and never fear there will be more. Next update will be tomorrow! (One final left and then I will be updating from home!!!)  
> Leave a comment below to make my birthday even better. Thanks guys!  
> May your days be merry and bright~  
> TheWeaverofWorlds


	5. Five Golden Rings

Friday December 16  


“You want me to create a missing person's report for someone who might not actually be missing?” asked Detective Inspector Javert.  


Jehan and Fantine were sitting across from the detective in his office. They had spent the previous two days pooling their knowledge and brainstorming options. Although Fantine didn't like the idea of going to the police, Jehan convinced her that it was as good a place as any. That's how they found themselves face to face with a man who had a nose like a hatchet, and an under bite a bulldog would be jealous of.  


“Um, not exactly. We were just wondering if there would be anyway to find a child who had gone missing twenty-three years ago,” Jehan attempted to clarify.  


Javert sighed, “You said this was related to the Thenardier case?”  


“Yes,” Fantine supplied.  


Javert stood up and pulled out a thick file. It looked old, most of the papers were slightly yellowed. Javert paged through it slowly until he came to one sheet that was relatively white. He read it for a moment, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. After several breaths through his nose, he opened his eyes and stared at them with his watery blue eyes.  


“A lot of children have gone missing in this city, a lot of children have gone missing due to this case. Why should I take the trouble to help you two?” he asked.  


“Because it's the right thing to do,” supplied Jehan. “And because it's almost Christmas.”  


Javert studied them before nodding. “Alright. I worked the Thenardier case as a junior detective. We spent forever trying to find the owners of the orphanage, but it was like they had vanished. We searched for them for ages, but there was nothing. I thought I had heard the last of them until about eight years ago, when the name came up again. Some girl with the same last name was filing for guardianship of her two siblings. I went to talk to her, turns out she was their daughter. Unfortunately she didn't know what had happened to her parents. They spent some time moving around a bit before leaving her and her siblings at some safe house or other and threatening her not to go to the cops saying they would find her and make her pay. After that she didn't hear from them again. I believe she got some help from a few friends and got back on her feet. Once she was old enough, she filed for legal guardianship of her younger siblings to quote, ensure that her parents couldn't touch them unquote. Of course the parents never showed up for the court date, but we hadn't really expected them to. Thanks to the police records, they were demonstrated as unfit parents and the girl got guardianship over them. Since then I haven't heard the name come up again. Her parents are still missing.”  


“Do you know how we could find this girl?” Fantine asked. “To see if she remembers anything of what could have happened to my daughter.”  


“I am afraid I cannot give that information as it is confidential,” Javert replied.  


Fantine sunk in her seat.  


“Can you at least give us her name?” Jehan asked.  


“Eponine Thenardier. Now if that is all, there are many other things I must be doing today,” Javert said.  


“Thank you for your time,” Fantine said.  


“Yes thank you,” agreed Jehan.  


Once they were outside again, Fantine asked, “what good is a name?”  


Jehan was frowning. “Eponine Thenardier...now that sounds familiar.”  


“Do you know her?” Fantine asked.  


Jehan shook their head. “No. I definitely don't. But I think I've heard it somewhere. If only I could remember.”  


Fantine looked at him despairingly. “What now?”  


Jehan pulled out their phone. “Let's see if Google has anything to say about it.”  


Fantine only frowned. “I don't know how that would help?”  


“If she was filing for guardianship with a name like Thenardier, it is possible there was some press about the incident. Maybe will tell us where she works.” Jehan explained patiently.  


Although nothing came up about the case, they did find an article about a dancer in the New York Ballet by the same name.  


Fifteen minutes later, Jehan and Fantine found themselves standing outside the Koch Theatre at Lincoln Center. They entered the theatre and found a helpful looking woman by the box office.  


“Excuse me, is Eponine Thenardier here?”  


“Miss Thenardier is not performing in tonight's performance, if that is what you are wondering?”  


“So she's not in the theatre?”  


“I'm afraid not.”  


“Is there anyway we can contact her?”  


“I'm afraid not.”  


“Alright, thank you.”  


They left disheartened and returned to Jehan's apartment. Once there Fantine tried her best to hide her disappointment. “We can always try going by the theatre again,” Jehan offered. “Assuming she's the right Eponine Thenardier.”  


Fantine nodded. “Did you ever figure out why the name sounded familiar?”  


Jehan shook their head. “Not yet. But I'm sure I'll remember.”  


-  


In Eponine and Grantaire's kitchen, Bahorel stood with the two dancers drinking tea.  


“I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me, Bahorel.” Eponine said. She was exhausted having not slept at all the previous night.  


“Try not to worry too much, Eponine. Kids get the stomach bug all the time, but he'll bounce back in a flash.” Bahorel promised. “I've got four younger siblings, I know a thing or two about their health. Do you need me to watch him again this evening?”  


Eponine shook her head. “I've taken tonight off. I want to be with him.”  


“Eponine, he'll be fine,” Grantaire said lowly.  


She shook her head. “I've made up my mind. Dara will be dancing my track tonight as for tomorrow we'll see how he is then.”  


Grantaire nodded. He knew there was no use fighting with Eponine once she had made up her mind.  


“'Ponine?” Gavroche's voice called out weakly. Immediately Eponine tensed, pulling away from the counter she was leaning against.  


“I'll go,” Grantaire said. “Try and get some rest.”  


She nodded wearily, falling back against the counter top.  


Once Grantaire had left, Bahorel started, “There's something I've been meaning to ask you.”  


“Hm?”  


“The other day I was talking to Gav and he doesn't seem excited for Christmas at all. When I was a kid his age I loved this season more than anything.”  


Eponine studied the older man cautiously before seeming to make up her mind. “Gav and I didn't have a childhood like most children. My parents spoiled me and Gav's older sister until about the time I was nine. Things started going badly for our parents business then and within a year it closed. We moved around for the city for the next few years. It was during then that Gav was born. My mother couldn't stand having another mouth to feed so she and my father left us. I never saw them again. If it weren't for some friends of mine, I don't know how I would have gotten back on my feet. By the time I was eighteen I got custody of my siblings, and I haven't looked back since. So you see, Gav never really got the childhood he should have, and I will always be to blame.”  


Bahorel shook his head gravely. “It's not your fault, Eponine. Jesus Christ, how did you handle it all?”  


“My friend Musichetta took us in for awhile. We didn't know what to do. We were only teenagers then.”  


“When did you begin dancing?” Bahorel asked.  


Eponine laughed. “I started at age three. We had some money then, and I think my mother had aspirations of being a show mom. I was able to continue dancing until I was ten. Once we moved around a lot, I would sneak out and watch other little girls in ballet classes. I watched what they did and then would practice it wherever we happened to be living. By the time I was seventeen I auditioned for a spot at the Joffrey Ballet School and got in on a scholarship. That's where I met R. I don't know what I would have done without his help. He and Musichetta helped me raise those kids. And now I'm a principal with the New York Ballet.”  


“That's incredible, Eponine. I never imagined...”  


“No, most people don't.”  


“So Gavroche has never experienced the magic of Christmas?”  


“Never.”  


“Would you mind if I tried to...to show him?”  


Eponie smiled for the first time that day. “Are you saying you want to be a part of this parenting squad we've got?”  


“I'd like that,” Bahorel smiled.  


“It's not easy,” warned Eponine. “And if you fuck up Grantaire, Musichetta and I will beat your ass...you know that right?”  
Bahorel grinned. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”  


“And you better be willing to be a consistent part of his life. I can't have anyone running off and abandoning him again.”  


“Who –”  


“Do you understand me?”  


“Yes ma'am.”  


“Ok then. Just try not to get his hopes up too much.”  


“I won't.”  


Eponine studied him wearily. “What did you have planned?”  


Bahorel grinned widely as he began to unravel his machinations to her.  


-  


Courfeyrac stood in his living room staring at his currently undecorated Christmas tree. In just over a week he would be hosting the annual Christmas party and it needed to be decorated. It was a tradition between their friends every year, but for the past few years it was always held at their apartment since it was the largest. Only this year Courfeyrac didn't want to decorate. It was something he and Combeferre had always done together, and without him it didn't feel right.  


Courfeyrac had already gotten the boxes out from the closet and they were currently sitting in front of the tree.  


“It doesn't feel like Christmas,” he muttered.  


“miaow?”  


“I wish it were spring already.” He continued. Eleanor wove between his legs rubbing her head on them. He leaned over to pick her up. “Forcythia blooming, not like we see much of it here, nice weather...nothing to stop a plane from landing.”  


He glanced out the window. The sky was still overcast, and yet not a flake of snow had fallen. Eleanor batted at his face to get his attention.  


“You're right. We'll make this tree so pretty that we won't be able to think of anything else,” Courfeyrac said. With a new determination, Courfeyrac set the cat down and moved to the boxes. First he unpacked strings of Christmas lights, uncovering the ornaments beneath them. Then he started to wrap them around the tree.  


It was a pretty tree, Combeferre and Courfeyrac had bought it before he had left. It was beautifully proportioned, if a little on the fat side and was almost as tall as Combeferre. The pine scent eased Courfeyrac's nerves as he threaded the lights through the tree's boughs. Under his breath he hummed “Blue Christmas” aware of the irony, and trying to ignore the stabbing feeling behind his ribs. The lights blurred in front of his eyes as he tried to blink away tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are done, I'm all packed and ready! Just had to upload this chapter~  
> Thank you for the sweet comments, they are making my day! Also thanks to everyone who has left a kudos, y'all are the best. Christmas is around the corner, I hope this story is helping you get in the spirit. If you have any predictions of what's gonna happen leave them below. Until tomorrow!  
> May your days be merry and bright~  
> T.W.o.W.


	6. Six Geese a Laying

Saturday December 17  


Cosette lay awake staring at the ceiling of her and Marius' bedroom. It was nearly Christmas and she had yet to find Marius a gift. She knew they didn't have much money, but never the less she didn't feel right not having a present for him. They had already bought a decent bottle of wine for their friends' Christmas Eve party, and had done the shopping for Christmas supper. She turned over to see Marius still asleep.  


These days he always seemed to have a furrow in his brows as he worried about their finances, but while he was asleep he looked so at ease. Cosette wished he could like this always. She studied his face as she contemplated how she would pay for his gift. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the tail of her braid.  
She loved her hair. She was proud of how long it had become. Marius often said he liked to tangle his fingers in it, and smell the shampoo that perforated the air after a shower. She considered it for a moment. She knew it was old fashioned, but perhaps she could get some money for it...the only question was where could she sell her hair? She almost lost her bravado at the thought, but one more look at Marius' face and she was gone. There was no going back for her.  


-  


Good to his word, Bossuet had taken Joly ice skating. They had arrived early in the day, when there weren't a lot of people there. Musichetta had work, but they had promised to meet up with her later. Joly was nervous on the ice, he was afraid of falling and breaking something. However it soon became apparent that it was Bossuet he should be worried for. The other man slipped and slid across the ice in a manner that had Joly's heart pounding. But Bossuet was having fun. He liked going fast.  


“Aren't you worried you might break something?” asked Joly timidly skating after the other man.  


Bossuet came to a grinding stop, before turning around to face the other man. “Not at all! Are you?”  


Joly nodded.  


Slowly Bossuet skated towards him. “Then I'll hold your hand.”  


“Um no I think that's okay,” protested Joly.  


Bossuet laughed. He was always laughing, Joly liked the sound of it. “Don't worry, we can go slow until you feel comfortable.”  


Joly nodded, hesitantly placing his gloved hand into Bossuet's. He liked the feeling of the other's hand in his and some small part of him considered what it would be like to always hold hands with the other. Then he remembered Musichetta and felt instantly guilty.  


“So how long have you and Musichetta been dating?” Joly asked.  


Bossuet looked down at the other man curiously, “I'm not sure.”  


“What do you mean you're not sure?”  


“She's just always been a part of my life. It's hard to discern when our friendship turned into something else.”  


Joly nodded. He felt jealousy prick at him, but he couldn't tell who he was jealous of. Thickly he replied, “I see.”  


“That's why labels are hard for us. Sometimes it feels like there's something missing, you know? I know she feels it too, but I just can't imagine not being with her. It's strange.” Bossuet said oddly seriously.  


Joly nodded.  


“Are you still missing Belle?”  


“No. I like spending time with you and Musichetta. It's nice. Different. It feels like this Christmas is different from the others. I don't know. Maybe it's just me,” babbled Joly nervously.  


Bossuet laughed. “No I think so too. C'mon let's circle a few more times and then go get something warm at Fezziwig's.”  


Joly couldn't help but agree. The two circled the rink, and if Joly leaned a little more heavily on Bossuet than necessary...well there was no one there to call him out on it.  
Half an hour later and the two men were sitting at the bar at Fezziwig's.  


“So how many times did you fall?” Musichetta asked Bossuet.  


Bossuet grinned. “Only once.”  


Joly frowned. “No you didn't.”  


He certainly would have remembered the panic that would have accompanied a fall if Bossuet had actually done so. He was sure the other man had remained upright, even if his bad luck gave him the propensity for falling.  


Bossuet shook his head. “I definitely fell.”  


He and Musichetta shared a knowing look. They were both smiling.  


Joly remained confused.  


“My boss is throwing a party tonight. Wanna be my date?” Musichetta asked.  


“Me?”  


She laughed. “Yes you.”  


“What about Bossuet?”  


“What about me?” Asked Bossuet back to Joly.  


“Well shouldn't you be asking your boyfriend?” Joly asked anxiously.  


Bossuet shrugged. “We told you we don't really do labels. Besides I've got some things I need to do.”  


“So what do you say? Are you going to make me come by myself?” Musichetta pouted.  


Joly knew she was partially joking, but he never wanted her to go anywhere alone when he could go with her. “I'll be here.”  


Musichetta beamed. “Wonderful! It's an ugly Christmas Sweater Party, so I hope you have one you can wear. Fezziwig is pretty relaxed about most things, but he takes his ugly Christmas sweaters seriously.”  


Joly smiled. “I've got a few.”  


“Tonight's gonna be fun!”  


“You kids be safe,” Bossuet teased merrily.  


Musichetta rolled her eyes.  


-  


Cosette was making lunch for her and Marius when the his phone rang.  


“Hello?” Marius answered. “Oh hey, Jehan. What can I do for you? – Eponine Thenardier, yeah she's a friend of mine. – Yes she has guardianship over her siblings? Why are you asking? – Of course, why do you need to find her? – That's very noble of you, how about I give you her number? – Great, 212-555-1832. Well good luck. I'll see you at the party? – Great. I hope you find her. Bye, Jehan.”  


“What was all that about?” Cosette asked curiously.  


“Jehan is helping some woman find her daughter. Apparently they think Eponine might be able to help,” Marius explained.  


Cosette smiled. “Bless them, I hope they can find her.”  


“Me too. Wouldn't that be a lovely Christmas miracle?”  


“If anyone could do it, it would be Jehan. They're such an angel.”  


“You're the angel,” Marius blushed.  


Cosette kissed his cheek. “Stop, that was bad even for you. Now, lunch is ready. Want to eat it in bed and watch some Netflix?”  


Marius grinned, “you know me so well.”  


The couple retired happily, knowing little how much their lives were going to change.  


-  


“What did your friend say?” Fantine asked.  


Jehan had finally remembered why they knew the name of Eponine Thenardier. They had a friend who knew her from his job. Luckily Marius had been able to give them her number. “I have her number, I was thinking of calling her today if you're alright with that?”  


Fantine nodded. “Thank you, Jehan. Just thank you for everything you are doing for me.”  


Jehan smiled. “You're a good person, Fantine. You've just had a bad string of luck.”  


Fantine's smile dimmed. “I wish you were right.”  


“I am.” Jehan affirmed.  


They dialed the number they had received. “Hello, is this Eponine Thenardier? – I'm a friend of Marius'. I was actually wondering if I could come talk to you with a woman who is looking for her child. She left the girl at your parents orphanage before it closed, and is now looking for her. She was wondering if you had any information about what might have happened to her daughter. – Really? Could we come today? – Oh, I see. Yes. I understand, and you're busy Sunday. Monday then? – Alright. Thank you. Have a good day.”  
Fantine was staring at them.  


“She's not sure that'll she'll be able to help, but she's willing to try. We can come over Monday morning. Her brother is sick, and she has too much on her mind right now.”  
Fantine burst into sobs. She pulled Jehan into a hug.  


“See? Everything will work out. We'll find your daughter,” promised Jehan.  


Fantine nodded. “Thank you. Thank you.”  


-  


That night when Joly entered Fezziwig's he found all the tables had been pushed to the side to create a dance floor. People were sitting at the booths talking and drinking, while others gathered around the bar. Musichetta had been right. Everyone was wearing an ugly sweater, including an old man who seemed to be the bar's owner.  


“You're here!” Exclaimed Musichetta.  


Joly nodded.  


“That sweater suits you,” she laughed.  


Joly was wearing a navy sweater with the head of a reindeer on it. Around its neck was a large wreath and obnoxious bow. “I like your snowmen.”  


“Aw you're sweet. Want anything to drink?”  


Joly nodded. He followed Musichetta over to the bar where another bartender took their orders.  


“Fezziwig hired outside help so that his employees could take the night off,” Musichetta explained. Being this close to her, Joly could smell her perfume. It was addictive. “Wanna dance? Let's dance.”  


Joly had only taken two sips of his drink before he found himself being pulled towards the dance floor. “I'm not a very good dancer.”  


“Luckily I am,” she replied.  


He smiled as she began to dance to the Christmas pop music. He even found himself getting into it a bit. Soon they were both flushed from the exertion and laughing. It wasn't long before Bing Crosby's “White Christmas” began to play. Musichetta placed Joly's hands on her hips and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Joly blushed even more, but swayed with her to the music.  


“So are you and Bossuet...I mean are you dating?” Joly asked nervously.  


“Yes,” Musichetta replied.  


“Oh.”  


“Why?”  


“I don't know. It's just confusing with you two, sometimes.” Joly said. “I think I'm just reading too much into the situation.”  


“What are you going on about?” Musichetta asked fondly.  


Joly remained silent unsure how to answer. She seemed to drop the matter, and pulled him closer as they swayed to the soft music. The song was coming to an end, and it would have been so easy for Joly to lean and kiss her. He wanted to, but then there was Bossuet to think of. Bossuet her not boyfriend but potential date mate? He wasn't sure. It was all so confusing. One moment he was sure he liked Musichetta and the next he liked Bossuet.  


She was still looking at him intently, waiting to see what he would say, but Joly couldn't take it any longer.  


“I need to go. Thanks for inviting me, Musichetta.” And just like that Joly scurried away from the prettiest woman he had ever met, even prettier than Belle. She was funnier too. And kind...and Joly could feel a tangle of emotions weighing heavily in his gut. What had he gotten himself into? If only he could go back in time...He should never have followed a beautiful woman into a bar in the basement of an apartment building. If he hadn't he could have saved himself a lot of heartache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updating from home! I hope you like the chapter....let me know what you think!  
> Thank you for all the sweet comments! They make my day so much better, I love reading them. Also thank you to anyone who has read this and left a kudos. I love you guys. This story has been such a treat to write, and y'all make it even more fun. See y'all tomorrow with chapter seven~  
> May your days be merry and bright~  
> T.W.o.W.


	7. Seven Swans A Swimming

Sunday December 18  


By Sunday it appeared Gavroche had made a full recovery. It seemed that he had only had a twenty-four hour stomach bug. Eponine was beyond relieved, and decided that she would be going to work today as it was a two show day. She had left strict instructions that Gav remain in bed all day just to be sure.  


Bahorel had no problem with this as he and Eponine had discussed the best ways to show Gavroche the true meaning of Christmas, and boring him out of his mind would probably make him more amenable to whatever Bahorel had in mind. So Gavroche sat in bed for the entirety of the morning and by two he began to get antsy.  


“Bahorel I'm bored!” the child called out.  


“I'm under strict orders not to let you out of this apartment until you are one hundred percent better,” countered Bahorel.  


“I'm better I promise,” Gavroche whined.  


“Eponine made me swear that you would stay here, so that's what's happening,” Bahorel said.  


Gavroche pouted. “But I'm bored.”  


“You could read a book,” offered Bahorel.  


“Can't you play video games with me?”  


“Nope. Eponine is worried that they might make you nauseous.”  


“Are you serious?”  


“Yep.” Lied Bahorel.  


“But I'm bored,” whimpered the child.  


Bahorel let out a sigh. “I guess I do have one idea...but you have to swear not to tell your sister –”  


“I won't!” Promised Gavroche.  


“Alright. Well I have some shopping that must be done today. But it means I need to go to Macy's, which I know isn't your cup of te –”  


And in a flash Gavroche was out of his bed, “let's go!”  


“Promise you won't tell Eponine?”  


“I already promised! What are you waiting for let's go.”  


Bahorel smiled. He was grateful that he had already gotten Eponine's blessing because if he hadn't and she found out he would be dead right now. Luckily, the little boy didn't know that and seemed eager to defy his older sister's orders.  


It didn't take them long to get to Herald's Square. Already the place was crowded with tourists and shoppers alike. Bahorel led Gavroche to the Eight floor which proudly displayed Santa Land.  


Already there was a long line, and almost gleefully Bahorel queued up in it.  


“I thought you had a lot of shopping to do,” Gavroche said eying the older man sideways.  


“Some, yes.”  


“Then why are we waiting in this long line?” Gavroche asked slowly.  


“We're here to see Santa,” Bahorel explained easily.  


“But Santa isn't –”  


“Not in front of the kids,” Bahorel interrupted sharply.  


“But this is only someone they hired –”  


“Stop Gavroche. We're in this line now, we're not getting out of it.” Then Bahorel betrayed him. Instead of continuing to chat, he pulled out a law book and began reading it.  
Gavroche sighed and accepted his fate. At first the boy contented himself by looking at all the displays of lights and objects, but soon he grew tired of that. He tried to eavesdrop on people's conversations, but the mothers gossiping ahead of them weren't very interesting to listen to. Long story short, Gavroche was bored. Again. And this time he wasn't even in the comfort of his own bed. As they neared the front of the line, Gavroche could see the man who was supposed to be “Santa”. He looked like Santa ought to look, rubicund in the face with a white beard. The beard even looked real, and it didn't seem like he was wearing a fat suit...The man was laughing happily, Gavroche refused to think jollily, at something the child was saying on his lap before the kid was being helped away by an adult dressed as an elf. Gavroche pitied the man who had to help Santa, but the man in question actually seemed to be pretty cheery himself. He was tall, maybe as tall as Eponine or Bahorel, and very slim. Like an elf should be, thought Gavroche. He was also covered in freckles. They got closer and Gavroche could begin to hear what the people were saying to Santa.  


One little girl walked up to the throne with the help of her mother.  


“Hello little one. Well, how are you?” asked the Santa, lifting the girl into his lap.  


The mother looked apologetic. “Oh. She's deaf. You don't have to talk to her. She just wanted to see you.”  


The Santa seemed to study the girl for a moment before shifting her on his lap. Then he began to sign to her. “You are a very beautiful young lady,” Santa said while signing.  


The little girl smiled. She signed THANK YOU.  


YOUR NAME signed the Santa.  


The little girl began to finger spell.  


“Anya,” Santa said repeating her name sign. “That's a beautiful name.”  


THANK YOU Anya signed back.  


The Santa continued to sign to her, and then to Gavroche's astonishment he began singing. While he sung Jingle Bells, the little girl appeared to be signing along with. “Very good. What do you want for Christmas? A doll? And a bear?! You shall have those. Merry Christmas!”  


HAPPY CHRISTMAS signed Anya.  


The mother rushed forward. “Thank you. Thank you.”  


The elf shook her hand as she left wishing her a very merry Christmas. She had tears in her eyes. Anya turned to wave goodbye.  


Gavroche thought about what he had just seen, before figuring that they must train all their Santas for situations such as this. Slowly they moved up in the line, and soon they were at the very front.  


“What's your name?” asked an elf at the front of the line.  


Gavroche ignored him.  


“What's his name?” the elf asked Bahorel.  


The man stopped reading his book, looked at Gavroche with a shit eating grin and said. “His name's Gavroche Thenardier and he's very excited to be here.”  


Gav merely frowned back at Bahorel, but the elf didn't seem to notice as they had left to go tell Santa the name.  


“Sometimes I really hate you,” muttered Gavroche under his breath.  


“Oh hush. It's Christmas time, suck it up.”  


And then it was Gavroche's turn. He was brought up the podium to sit on Santa's lap. Bahorel remained close, but was talking to the elf by Santa's side.  


“Hello, little one. And what would you like for Christmas?” Santa asked.  


“I know you're a fake,” whispered Gavroche. “That the store only hires you to play Santa.”  


The old man frowned. “Now why would you say that?”  


“Because Santa isn't real.”  


“Who's to say so?”  


“Grown ups. My sister buys all my presents. I know she does because it's always exactly what I ask her for.”  


The old man nodded. “So you don't believe in me?”  


“No you're just for toddlers and babies.”  


Santa nodded gravely. “I see. But if I were real, what would you want for Christmas?”  


Gavroche thought for a moment. “I want my sister to come home.”  


Santa looked grave. “That's a pretty big wish.”  


“Well you're Santa, I'm sure you can handle it,” Gavroche retorted.  


The old man merely nodded, while stroking his beard.  


Gavroche hopped off his lap, and pulled Bahorel away from where he had been flirting with the elf. “C'mon. Let's go.”  


“How was your chat with Santa?” asked Bahorel.  


“Lame. How was flirting with that grown man in an elf costume?” Gavroche asked.  


Bahorel smiled. “We're getting coffee on Tuesday.”  


“Don't you have a job?” asked Gavroche with a frown.  


“I hate being a lawyer,” was all Bahorel managed to say.  


After that they continued to walk around the store. Gavroche seemed even less into Christmas than before, and Bahorel found himself back at the drawing board. Hopefully his date with the cute elf would inspire him.  


-  


Sunday afternoon and Joly found himself sitting on a bench in Central Park, again. The sky was still overcast, and there was a harsh wind...but still no snow fall. Joly just sat trying to think how much he had managed to fuck things up in a week.  


“I was hoping we would find you here,” Musichetta said with a grin.  


Joly looked up startled to see both Musichetta and Bossuet standing in front of his park bench. His heart fluttered a little, before sinking as he noticed they were holding hands.  


“Oh, hi.”  


“I thought you didn't like spending Christmas alone,” teased Bossuet. “Is our company really so bad that you would prefer to be alone on a cold park bench than with us?”  


“No!” Joly said hastily.  


“Then why haven't you returned our calls from last night?” Musichetta asked.  


“And this morning?”  


“I… I don't think we should hang around together.” Joly said.  


“Why not?”  


“I just can't...”  


“Joly, how do you feel about us?” Bossuet asked. Joly jumped, he had never heard the other man call him by his actual name before.  


“How do I feel?”  


Musichetta nodded encouragingly.  


“I feel like one minute I want to kiss you,” he addressed to her, then turning to Bossuet, “and the next is like I want to kiss you. I've never felt this way about two people...and I … I don't know anymore.”  


They shared a sympathetic look. “Joly, have you heard of polyamory?”  


Joly nodded, before shaking his head.  


“It's basically the idea of being in love and or romantically involved with more than one person at a time. Everyone in the relationship must agree to it, and give their consent,” Musichetta explained.  


Joly frowned, “I don't...how does that relate to me?”  


“Well Bossuet and I are in a committed relationship,” Musichetta began, “but that doesn't mean we couldn't be committed to you either. We've discussed it, Joly, and we both like you.”  


Bossuet nodded emphatically. “The reason we don't like labels is because to us they seem limiting. It's hard to explain it, but whatever we are we'd like to be it with you too.”  


“But you've only known me for six days,” Joly squeaked.  


“We know it's a lot, but if you wanted to try dating both of us...well we're up for it if you are,” Musichetta said gently.  


Joly looked a bit striken, perhaps from going from zero romantic partners to two at once...or maybe just the cold but he couldn't respond.  


Musichetta's shoulders dropped. “It's okay. We know it's not exactly normal in today's society. How about we give you some time to think about it? No pressure.”  


Joly nodded gratefully.  


“I hope to see you at Fezziwig's,” She said kissing his cheek.  


“Yeah, it won't be the same without you,” Bossuet kissed the other cheek. “Let us know what you decide. And if it's too much...well we'd still like to be friends.”  


This time it was Musichetta who nodded emphatically.  


Joly watched them walk away, his head spinning. He could easily imagine him walking between the two of them, kept warm by their taller frames. He could see in his mind's eye kissing them both, snuggling with them back at his apartment, going even further…. And that's where he pulled back. He wasn't even sure how to have sex with another man. Up until this past week he had considered himself straight… Bossuet made him reconsider all of it. And maybe they liked him now, but when they found out about his hypochondriac tendencies, would they still like him? Or would they pull back as Belle had done. Fuck Belle. He hadn't realized how her leaving had made him distrust the words and intentions of others...even people as great as Musichetta and Bossuet. And so Joly sat, and thought. He realized after awhile that his thinking was going in circles, and that he should probably go get food.  


He stood up slowly. His joints ached from the cold, and he was sure he had caught a cold. He grabbed his cane and began making his way home. Once back in his small midtown apartment he pulled out his laptop and began to research polyamory.  


God, he hated being alone during the holidays.  


The more he read about polyamory the more he could imagine himself with Bossuet and Musichetta. He wondered if it was possible to like two people as much as he liked them, and if he would ever feel jealous if they decided to do something without him. He didn't think he would...but then again he had never done anything like this. To think that only a year ago he would have been content marrying Belle when he had the capacity of loving two…  


Joly stayed up late that night thinking of what this Christmas might bring.  


-  


Enjolras had gone to see the ballet again. It was even better than he remembered. The dancers were like a kaleidoscope twirling in and out of focus in their glimmering costumes. And at their center was Grantaire. He was radiant under the stage lighting, executing his turns with the precision of a painter. Some strokes were wide and encapsulating, others precise and fine...but they all moved towards a singular goal, painting an image worthy of Degas or Monet. It was splendid to watch. Enjolras was like a moth drawn to a flame, however unlike a moth, he was afraid to approach. For how could someone so radiant not burn him in the process?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the sweet comments that have been added since last chapter. My readers are the best! Lots of love to you guys and your loved ones. Feel free to leave a comment below with questions or comments. I love reading them all. Thanks to everyone who has left a kudos or even bothered to read up to this point. Have a great holiday season, chapter eight will be up tomorrow.  
> May your days be merry and bright  
> T.W.o.W.


	8. Eight Maids A Milking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you didn't think I'd forgotten about you all, in all honest I lost track of the time today and was busy making Christmas gifts. Thank you all so much for your support. ~T.W.o.W.

Monday December 19  


Jehan and Fantine stood outside the door to a midtown apartment eying it apprehensively. It was early still, the sky bathed in a pearly gray light due to the cloud cover with threats of snow. The city that never slept was in a lull, everyone seemed reluctant to go outside. In general people seemed afraid of being stranded in case the huge storm hit today. Fantine, however, was not afraid of the snow. In fact snow was currently the least of her worries. Little scared her anymore. She found that once you have lost your entire world, there isn't much the world can do to frighten you. Yet here she was, standing in front of a slate door afraid of the truths which may lie behind it. She was finally meeting Eponine, the woman who could hold the answers to her daughter's disappearance and she was scared.  


“Knock,” prompted Jehan.  


“I'm afraid,” she whispered.  


Jehan gave her a rueful smile. “What's there to be afraid of?”  


“The truth.”  


They seemed to consider her answer for a moment before saying. “The only thing worse is not knowing. What if all it takes for you to be reunited with your –”  


“Stop,” choked Fantine.  


Jehan acquiesced. “Just knock, Fantine.”  


Taking a deep breath, the older woman did so.  


The door was opened by a young man. He was about Jehan's age with dark curly hair, and was strangely dressed. He was wearing a dark hat and scarf and had a winter coat halfway on.  


“You must be here to see Eponine. Ep, your guests are here!” He called into the apartment. “Come on in. I was just about to take the youngster out. Gav, c'mon!”  
From down the hall sprinted a little boy. Fantine's heart melted. He looked about ten with a gap between his teeth. He too was dressed for the cold weather, in snow boots, a hat, and warm jacket.  


“I'm coming.” He grabbed the older man's hand and began tugging him into the hall. “Let's go, R! I wanna see everything.”  


R chuckled, following the child out, “have a good day.”  


They just nodded before stepping into the warm apartment. They were then greeted by a tall woman who led them to the kitchen.  


“I'm Eponine. You must be Jehan,” She said shaking their hand.  


Jehan nodded. “They/them pronouns please. This is Fantine, the woman I was telling you about on the phone.”  


“Hi, lovely to meet you,” Eponine said with a warm smile.  


“I know you,” Fantine said slowly. “We met the day I dropped Euphrasie off at the orphanage. You were playing on the sidewalk and your mother was watching.”  


Eponine looked uncomfortable. “How do you remember all that?”  


“You were what convinced me that Euphrasie would be safe there. I thought if a mother could treat her daughter so like that, with so much kindness, then she would be able to look after my daughter in the same manner.”  


Eponine smiled thinly. “My mother was nothing like that.”  


Fantine smiled sadly. “I'm sorry.”  


“I am too.” Eponine coughed. “Can I get either of you anything to drink?”  


“Water would be fine,” Jehan answered.  


Fantine declined.  


Once Eponine had gotten a glass of water and returned to the table she said, “Tell me about your daughter. I'll see if I can remember anything.”  


“I dropped Euphrasie off in 1993. She was only three then.” Fantine begun.  


Eponine shoulders dropped. “I'm not sure I will be able to help you, Fantine. In '93 I was the same age as your daughter. You said her name was Euphrasie?”  
“Yes. She was such a pretty thing. Her hair was such a lovely shade of brown. I remember watching you two play and thinking you could be sisters.” Fantine had the hint of a smile on her lips.  


“I don't remember anyone named Euphrasie,” confessed Eponine. “Perhaps she was adopted when I was too young to remember?”  


Fantine shook her head, “your mother promised that she would offer my daughter a home and not put her up for adoption.”  


“My mother might have made such promises, but if my father thought he could get a good price for her he would have sold her,” Eponine said grimly.  


“That's atrocious,” Jehan said setting their glass down sharply.  


“That was mum and da,” Eponine grimaced. “I'm afraid that I can't help you. I have no clue what could have happened to her. I'm sorry.”  


Fantine let out a sob.  


“It's alright, Fantine. We'll find another way.” Jehan promised grabbing her hand.  


Eponine looked morose, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Fantine continued to cry.  


“Is it possible that you have anything saved from that time?” asked Jehan.  


“There may be some journal, somewhere but my parents were very thourough when it came to destroying their records.” Eponine seemed to be thinking for a moment. “However I do recall a notebook my mother kept. I had stolen it when I knew things were beginning to go wrong. I think I believed that if it got bad enough I could take it to the police...but I never did.”  


“Where is that notebook?” Jehan asked. “Could we see it?”  


Eponine shrugged. “It probably got lost with all the times we moved. I can look but I don't promise anything.”  


“Thank you. Call me if you find it. We really appreciate your time,” Jehan said standing to go. “Come on, Fantine. Let's get you home.”  


Fantine hadn't stopped crying, and Jehan found themselves helping her out of her seat and leading her to the door.  


“Really, thank you,” Jehan iterated.  


Eponine nodded. “I'll try my best to find those records, but I really can't make any promises.”  


“We understand. Truly.” Jehan said. “C'mon, Fantine.”  


Eponine shut the door behind them.  


Fantine allowed herself to lean heavily on Jehan as they headed back to their apartment. They held onto her arm closely not allowing her to stray, but they shouldn't have worried. There were hardly any cars out. When they reached their apartment, Jehan settled Fantine onto her temporary bed and brought her a cup of tea. They sat beside her and turned on the tv.  


“We will find her, Fantine. She's out there somewhere. I promise.”  


Fantine remained silent as Jehan pulled her to them.  


-  


There were less people at the ballet today. Perhaps because they were afraid of the oncoming storm or maybe it was because it was a Monday, Enjolras wasn't sure. Either way he found himself drawn to the place again. Or rather not the place but a person. It was probably creepy how much Enjolras thought about the other man, without actually having a real or meaningful conversation with the other...He wanted to change that...but he was scared. He knew he was acting irrational, and should probably do something other than sit in his premium seat and watch the other man dancing...but he liked seeing Grantaire dance. It was beautiful, and it helped him forget all the drama with his parents. He had taken for granted the beautiful gift the arts could give of forgetting. He watched the performance, happy to forget, but couldn't seem to shake the feeling of wanting to talk to Grantaire for real.  


Perhaps compelled by his wish to get to know the man better, Enjolras hung out by the stage door. He wished he smoked so he would have some excuse to be standing out here in the cold...but then again he was glad he didn't. It was bitterly cold; the wind was hurting his face and he was sure his ears were already turning an alarming shade of red. He kept sniffling as he pulled his coat closer to him to keep warm.  


“'Taire! Looks like you've got an admirer!”  


Enjolras' head snapped up as he saw a group of dancers leaving the theatre. In the front was the redhead for the party. She seemed especially pleased to see him. Behind her was the Sugar Plum Fairy, and next to her was Grantaire. And he looked shocked. Perhaps this had all been a mistake.  


-  


Grantaire wasn't sure what his face looked like right now, but he was sure it was pretty funny. So funny that if he had been a betting man, he would have bet Floreal would be teasing him about it for the rest of his life. Instead she just looked very pleased with herself.  


“Flora, what's he doing here?” asked Grantaire under his breath. He had never dreamed that he would get to see the other man ever again. He hadn't even learned his name for Christ's sake!  


“I think he's here to see you,” she giggled back. Grantaire remembered her words just seconds ago… _looks like you've got an admirer_ …  


“But what do I do?”  


“Stop talking to us, he probably thinks you're freaking out!”  


“But I am freaking out!”  


“Oh you're useless,” Eponine sighed. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over to where the other man was standing.  


“He looks cold,” stage whispered Floreal, “go warm him up with your manly love!”  


Eponine had to hold Grantaire back, if she hadn't he would have smothered the other dancer.  


“Hello, my name is Eponine and this is Grantaire,” Eponine said as if nothing happened.  


“Enjolras,” the blond man said. As he spoke to 'Ponine, Grantaire couldn't help but staring at him. Even with his face red from the cold, he was handsome. He looked a bit embarrassed, which Grantaire found endearing.  


“Did you enjoy the performance?” Eponine was asking.  


Enjolras nodded. “It was lovely. You two were brilliant, like always.”  


“Like always?”  


Grantaire watched Enjolras turn a brighter shade of scarlet.  


“Oh um...”  


“You look cold,” Grantaire decided to save him from embarrassment. “Want to go get coffee with me?”  


Enjolras nodded gratefully.  


“I'll see you back at the apartment,” he told Eponine.  


She grinned, “See you later.”  


He watched her walk back to Floreal. The two women left, heads close together clearly whispering about the new and unexpected developments in his love life.  
“Where do you want to go?” asked Grantaire, turning back to his companion.  


Enjolras shrugged. “I'm afraid I don't really know what's open this late.”  


Grantaire smiled. “No worries then. I know the perfect place.”  


Grantaire led them north to 66 St station, where they boarded the subway. Once they were settled Grantaire gave Enjolras a sly grin. “So I saved you the embarrassment of explaining yourself in front of Eponine and Floreal, but what did you mean when you said 'like always'?”  


Enjolras blushed again. It was funny how well Grantaire could detect the emotions of the other man so soon after meeting him. “I was there the night of my parents' charity gala.”  


Grantaire smirked, “and?”  


“And what?” asked Enjolras.  


“That's not all, is it.” It wasn't really a question.  


The blond's shoulders dropped. “No. I came yesterday evening.”  


Grantaire's smile broke open, and it was beatific. “Two days in a row? Plus last Thursday? Now why would you do such a thing?”  


Enjolras smiled, “maybe I just really like the ballet.”  


“No one likes the ballet that much. Not even I do.” Grantaire shook his head slowly. “What else?”  


Enjolras looked shy, Grantaire didn't know it yet but it was rare for Enjolras to act so reticent and that he hardly did so around strangers. Somehow on the subway downtown, Grantaire had uncovered a part of Enjolras he only showed to his closest friends.  


“Okay...maybe I wanted to see you again,” confessed Enjolras.  


Grantaire's jaw dropped, stupefied. Gone was his cool, teasing, and feigned indifference. Instead it was instantly replaced with an urge to jump the man here and now. It took everything in him not to. And here was the second time Grantaire was making a ridiculous face because of Enjolras.  


“You can't just go saying things like that,” Grantaire's voice was low...His mouth was dry like the first time he had spoken to Enjolras, making his voice sound raspy.  


“What would you like me to say?” The other man had regained his confidence and now seemed to be taunting Grantaire. The bastard.  


“Anything but that! Nobody says things like that except for in movies,” protested Grantaire.  


Enjolras chuckled. “Maybe this whole thing has been a bit cinematic.”  


Grantaire sighed contently. “Perhaps it has.”  


“So where are you taking me?”  


“Little coffee shop/bar in the village,” Grantaire explained.  


“Isn't that a bit far?”  


“Maybe, but they're the best place open at this time of night.” Grantaire confessed, “Starbucks doesn't count.”  


“What about the storm?”  


“Scared we might be stranded?” Grantaire asked grinning again.  


Enjolras couldn't help but nod.  


“They said it would start early this morning, but nothing. I have a feeling that it won't start today. And if it does, well it won't be too hard to get back to the subway and head uptown. By the way where do you live? I'm assuming its not with your parents.”  


Enjolras shook his head. “I was just staying with them to help them get ready for the party, but I've got an apartment in midtown.”  


Grantaire nodded satisfied. “As you should.”  


They got off at Christopher St and Sheridan Sq. Grantaire led the way deeper into the village to a warmly lit building. They entered it, anxious to be out of the frigid wind. Immediately Grantaire could feel the change in temperature. It was like everything had been turned up.  


“Welcome to the Musain,” Grantaire said with a smile.  


Mrs. Hucheloup had decorated the small coffee bar with fresh garlands of pine, giving the place a wintry scent. At every table was a small candle surrounded by a wreath of holly. By the large windows was a small tree, decorated with lights and red, white and gold ornaments. To the other side of the tree were some bookshelves where books could be left or taken. Over in the corner the wood stove burned merrily, and by it were two empty seats. They were overstuffed armchairs, that one could sink into, and remain comfortably seated in for hours at a time. Grantaire and Enjolras made their way over to the chairs and set their coats on them before heading to the bar to order.  


“What will you two have?” asked the barista.  


The menu above the bar listed everything from teas and coffees to wine and beer.  


“I'll have a glass of Superiuer,” Grantaire responded, “and whatever he's getting.”  


Enjolras looked slightly affronted. “You don't have to pay for me.”  


“But if I want to? After all I did ask you out on this date.”  


Enjolras flushed. “I'll get a decaffeinated chai tea latte.”  


“Size?”  


“Small.”  


The barista punched in their order before saying, “Your total is $17.42.”  


Grantaire passed over his card.  


“Credit or debit?”  


“Debit.”  


“Thank you. Your orders will be ready at the bar in just a few minutes.” The barista said with a smile as she passed the card back to Grantaire.  


“How did you find this place?” Enjolras asked as they waited.  


Grantaire smiled. “I like to spend my free time walking around. You never know what you will find in this city. It's like an adventure.”  


“Glass of Bordeux Superieur?” asked the bartender.  


Grantaire nodded and it was brought to him.  


“This place is beautiful,” Enjolras said looking around.  


Grantaire smiled. Bringing Enjolras here had been a risk on his part. The Musain was like his home, after the theatre and his apartment that is, and showing something so close to his heart on a first date had taken a lot of courage. “I'm glad you like it.”  


“Chai latte?”  


“Here,” Enjolras moved to receive the mug of steaming tea.  


They went back to their seats by the hearth and began to talk of everything.  


“So your parents hosted the charity gala?” asked Grantaire.  


Enjolras nodded. “My mother is fond of the ballet. She's set up scholarships in her name and every Christmas raises money for the New York City Ballet.”  


“You don't like it?” asked Grantaire amused.  


“My mother doesn't really care about the arts or ballet. She just does it to feel better about herself. The only reason she picked the ballet is because there is nothing scandalous about ballet. It doesn't take risks like theatre or opera –" Enjolras explained.  


Grantaire frowned. “Doesn't take risks?”  


“There aren't a lot of gay ballets are there? Or ballets that deal with sex.” Enjolras argued.  


Grantaire couldn't help but laugh. “Your mother is mistaken. Sure there may be not ballets that address those topics head on like musical theatre or opera….but you should look at some contemporary ballets by Martha Graham, Alvin Ailey or even Diaghilev. They deal as much with human rights, political propaganda, and sexuality as anything performed by an opera or theatre company. Your mother is just drawn to classical ballet because she finds it safe. I hope you do not agree with her?”  


-  


After Grantaire's speech, Enjolras found himself even more attracted to the man. The passion with which he spoke and fervor with which he made his argument was potent. It was almost like watching him dance, only in this setting it was more intimate, more directed upon one person. And that one person was Enjolras. He liked being at the center of Grantaire's artistic ardour, and never wanted the other man to change focus to another.  


“I would like to learn more,” confessed Enjolras.  


Grantaire smiled. “And so you will. A desire for knowledge is always fed. Tell me about your family.”  


“You really want to hear about them?”  


“Yes. You are curious about ballet, and I am curious about you.”  


Enjolras could feel his face heating up. “My mother is a housewife. She spends her time raising money for charities she doesn't really care about and making sure our housekeepers maintain the house properly. My father owns the largest business service and supplies company in New York. He is constantly in meetings or traveling the world with his business partner, Francois Renault. Everyone expects me to marry his daughter and merge the two companies together,” Enjolras said drearily.  


“You don't want to do that?” Grantaire was smirking at him.  


“I have no interest in Patria. No.” Enjolras said a smile tugging at his lips.  


“And why is that?” Grantaire said leaning in.  


“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”  


“That would be nice,” confirmed Grantaire.  


“I am gay.”  


Grantaire's smile could have powered the entire island of Manhattan. “Hi gay, I'm dad.”  


Enjolras rolled his eyes. “You remind me of one of my friends, constantly making shitty dad jokes.”  


Grantaire laughed. “I should like to meet this friend.”  


“I think he would like you,” Enjolras smiled.  


“So do your parents really not know you are gay?”  


“I think there must be a small part of my mother that knows, but she won't acknowledge it. As for my father he's rarely around, he probably as no clue.”  


“You said they wanted you to merge companies together,” Grantaire started. “What do you really want to do?”  


Enjolras smiled. He liked that Grantaire was such an attentive listener. “I'm looking into some pre-law programs around the city.”  


“A lawyer?”  


“Is that truly so boring?” asked Enjolras.  


Grantaire smiled. “No. It's respectable. I think it suits you.”  


Enjolras cheeks flushed again. He wasn't usually so affective, but Grantaire seemed to draw it out of him. “What about you? How long have you been dancing?”  


“I've been dancing since I could walk,” confessed Grantaire. “I was that little boy who was always teased cause he was a dancer, but I didn't care. I loved it too much to care. Besides my sisters threatened to beat up anyone who bullied me, so I never second guessed this path. When I was seventeen I got into the Joffrey School of Ballet and two years later I met Eponine. She's one of my best friends. I was with her when she gained custody of her two little siblings, and I live with her to help look after her little brother. When I rushed out, the night we met, it was because he was throwing up. Eponine didn't know what to do, and I couldn't just let her deal with it by herself,” explained Grantaire.  


Enjolras shook his head. “You don't need to explain yourself to me. The redheaded woman said it was a family emergency.”  


“Floreal? She talked to you? Ohmygod, did she say anything super embarrassing, please say she didn't.”  


Enjolras couldn't help but laugh. “She didn't say anything embarrassing about you.”  


“Thank god. She's a trip that girl. Only twenty-three but knows exactly what she wants from the world,” Grantaire shook his head.  


“Tell me more about your family, you have sisters?”  


Grantaire smiled. “Two. One older and one younger. Guess you could say I'm the dreaded middle child. My older sister's name is Theodora, but I always called her Thea. And the little one is Clara. My mom and dad have always been supportive of all of us. When they found out I was bi my mom wanted to throw a party. It was a little embarrassing to be honest.”  


“That's nice. It sounds like you have a great family.” Enjolras said wistfully.  


“They're the best. When they found out about Eponine they did everything they could to help her. They couldn't stand thinking about her going through all of that on her own. I'm so lucky to have them.”  


“Are you traveling to see them this Christmas?”  


Grantaire shook his head sadly. “I can't cause of work.”  


“I'm sorry.”  


“I've already sent gifts to Thea for my niece and nephews. As well as some things for her and her husband, Clara and Mom and Dad. Everyone's going to their house this year.”  


“Your parents'?”  


“Nah Thea and her husband's. They live in Philadelphia with three kids.”  


“I'm sorry you can't spend the holiday with your family.”  


Grantaire shrugged. “Hazard of the business I suppose. But they've all come to see me perform already, so I guess I shouldn't complain.”  


Enjolras frowned. “Still it sucks that you can't spend the holiday with your family, especially since you all seem pretty close. Do you already have plans for Christmas eve?”  


“No. I was probably going to get drunk with Eponine.”  


“Come to my friends' Christmas Party with me.” Enjolras said excitedly.  


“What?”  


“It's a tradition we have every year. There's great homemade food, music, company. It's a lot of fun.”  


“I don't want to interrupt something that is a tradition between you and your friends,” protested Grantaire.  


“I want you to come,” Enjolras said softly. “I like spending time with you.”  


“What time does it start? I've got two performances that day...”  


“It won't start until probably eight, nine?”  


Grantaire nodded. “Okay. I'd like that.”  


“Really? You'll come?”  


Grantaire smiled, the one that sent butterflies to Enjolras' stomach, “Yes I'll come. I like spending time with you too.”  


They shared a look, blissful and content. It seemed like Grantaire wanted to kiss him, but instead of doing anything he just looked away shyly. Enjolras wanted to scream, but instead he just took a sip of his tea and tried to hide his disappointment.  


“It's getting late. I'm sure you want to head back so you can get to sleep at a decent time,” Grantaire said reluctantly.  


Enjolras nodded. “What about you?”  


“I've got to destress a bit,” confessed Grantaire.  


“Don't you have a performance tomorrow?”  


“I don't need to be there until five-thirty at the earliest,” explained Grantaire. “Besides afterward the adrenalin from the show doesn't seem to go away for awhile, so I'm usually up until one or two.”  


“What do you do then?” asked Enjolras.  


Grantaire smiled. “I paint, sometimes I'll read.”  
v “Paint?”  


Grantaire nodded. “It's a good hobby.”  


“Any other hobbies,” Enjolras asked shyly.  


“Many. Perhaps I'll show you them, but another time. You look tired, and I don't feel like carrying you from the subway to your apartment. So let's go.”  
Enjolras nodded. It was a fair point, however he would have liked to feel Grantaire's arms around him. He was sure the other man could lift him, but it was getting late and they really should be heading back.  


The subway ride uptown was mostly silent. Grantaire's hand was on the seat only inches from Enjolras'. The older man sitting across from them wanted to laugh and tell them to just hold hands for fuck's sake...after all you never knew when you wouldn't get the chance to again.  


They got off together, and Grantaire walked Enjolras to his apartment building.  


“When will I see you again?”  


“Let me give you my number,” Grantaire said writing it on Enjolras' hand. “Text me, and we'll find out.”  


Enjolras nodded.  


Again Grantaire looked like he wanted to kiss him, but instead he just stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to leave.  


“I'll call you!” Enjolras cried out, resenting the lateness of the night which demanded they part.  


Grantaire turned around with his characteristic grin. “You better.”  


And then he was gone, leaving Enjolras leaning against the door to the building. He smiled watching the other man leave. He looked up at the cloudy sky, thanking whatever star had chosen to bless him with tonight. He went into the warm building and began climbing the stairs to his apartment.  


-  


Even with all the reports of snow, not a flake had fallen. The city was still mantled in her cloudy cloak. No flights were allowed in or out of JFK. And it would remain so for another four days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple notes:  
> -The Musain is inspired by Vbar & Cafe in NYC. The place appears to be a really awesome fusion of bar and cafe, and I thought what better place for Enjolras and Grantaire to have their first date?!  
> -If you're curious about the dancers Grantaire mentioned you should look them up. They all did some really incredible stuff which has helped develop modern/contemporary ballet.  
> -The old man on the subway lived through the Aids Crisis, and had friends and a boyfriend who died. Not a super huge part to the story, but I wanted in some way acknowledge it (the Aids Crisis) and I didn't feel mentioning it was enough, I wanted to point in out in the end notes as well.
> 
> Thank you for the continued support! I love reading your comments and getting kudos from new readers. If you have any questions or comments please leave it below! Next chapter will be up tomorrow, and for those of you who have come for Bahorel and Feuilly...sorry for making you wait so long. Thanks for your patience, they will be prominent in the next few chapters. I can't wait for you to read them. So make sure you check back in~  
> May your days be merry and bright:  
> T.W.o.W.


	9. Nine Ladies Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all you Bahorel and Feuilly fans, thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy~

Tuesday December 20  


Bahorel entered Starbucks and was welcomed by the heavily scented air. It was warm inside the crowded establishment, and as people chatted away with one another they filled the air with their conversations. He ordered a drink, before looking for his date. Sitting at a small table by the window was the elf from Macy's. Bahorel thought he was beautiful. He was lanky, with fluffy looking brown hair. Across his cheeks and nose were freckles that Bahorel hoped one day the other man would let him kiss. He was sitting unobtrusively reading a book, but when he caught sight of Bahorel a smile graced his lips.  


“Hello,” he said shyly.  


“Hi, Feuilly right?”  


“Mhm, and you're Bahorel. I'm glad you were willing to get coffee with me,” Feuilly said.  


“Thanks for offering. So tell me what's it like working at Santa Land?” Bahorel said sitting down with his coffee.  


Feuilly smiled wryly. “It isn't so bad. I like Christmas. I like getting to share it with people. Some of the Santas there are pretty bad to work with, but there is one...”  


“One what?”  


“He calls himself Kris Kringle. He believes he's the real Santa Claus,” Feuilly explained.  


“And what do you think?” Bahorel asked.  


“I didn't believe it. Not at first. But he seemed harmless so I went along with it, but then he's done some incredible things. He always tells parents where to get the best deal for the presents they're shopping for. He's also spoken to children in their native language. I've heard him speak Spanish, Chinese, Polish, Russian, and even sign to a deaf girl. It's incredible.” Feuilly said enthusiastically.  


“So you think he could really be Santa?” Bahorel asked without skepticism.  


“I know it sounds silly,” Feuilly said suddenly shyly, “but I don't see why not. He's so good with the children, always listening to what they want. I wish there were more people like that, especially during this time of the year. He makes it about them, not their parents or the store or anybody else. He listens.”  


Bahorel reached out and patted Feuilly's hand. “You seem like that type as well.”  


Feuilly blushed at the praise. “What about you? Where do you work?”  


“I'm an attorney.”  


“You don't seem like that's a good thing,” Feuilly said raising a brow.  


Bahorel laughed. It was a booming laugh that had some other customers turn to look at him. “To be honest Feuilly. I hate it. It's miserable work.”  


“Then why don't you quit?” asked Feuilly.  


Bahorel shrugged. “Work is work. In this economic climate I wouldn't dare to.”  


Feuilly nodded, seeming to understand. “I see.”  


“And when you're not an elf at Macy's what do you do?”  


“I work a lot of odd jobs. I work as a barista, and help some home schooled special needs kids,” shrugged Feuilly. “I make it work.”  


“That's incredible,” Bahorel said. “Where do you find the time?”  


Feuilly laughed. “There's always time to do what you love if you make it. My friends call me a workaholic, but coming from them that's a bit hypocritical.”  


“So you work too much, but I'm sure you know how to have a good time,” Bahorel raised an eyebrow and wiggled it obscenely.  


Feuilly couldn't help but let out a snort. “Oh god, please tell me you don't do that to everyone you're trying to sleep with.”  


“Who says I only want to sleep with you?” Bahorel smirked.  


Feuilly turned away, his cheeks becoming bright red. He muttered, “shut up, you, bastard.”  


“I didn't know we were at the point where we could use terms of endearment!” exclaimed Bahorel mirthfully. “What shall I call you? Muffintoes perhaps?”  


Feuilly turned to him with a smirk. “Fine. Asshole.”  


“Do you use that kind of language around children? For shame!”  


“I would never,” Feuilly protested. “Fuck you for suggesting it.”  


“Fine, know anyone who'd be willing to?”  


Feuilly's turned a brighter shade of red, spluttered a bit and then opened his book.  


“Aw, bunnylips, I didn't mean to offend you,” Bahorel teased.  


Feuilly merely humphed from behind his book and refused to further engage with the other man. Bahorel didn't even bother to hide his smile. The noise the other man had just made was beguiling, and Bahorel was eager to see what else he could get from the brunet.  


“A neutral topic then,” suggested Bahorel. Feuilly's book moved down a fraction of an inch. “What's your favorite Christmas song?”  


Bahorel could finally see Feuilly's face again, but the other man kept the book open in his hands in case he needed to retreat to the safety of its pages again. He seemed to consider the question before answering, “'I'll be home for Christmas'. Bing Crosby sang it?”  


Bahorel nodded pretending to be serious. “That's a good one, but you know what song is even better? 'Dominic the Donkey'.”  


And Feuilly was back to reading his book. Bahorel laughed. “You're insane.”  


“Thank you.”  


“It wasn't a compliment,” but Bahorel could tell that Feuilly was smiling.  


“Fine. Compromise. How do you feel about _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_?” asked Bahorel.  


The book was lowered and Feuilly was smiling shyly. “I like it a lot.”  


Bahorel grinned. “Me too.”  


“Cartoon or Jim Carrey?”  


“Cartoon,” admitted Bahorel. He had grown up watching the classic, and loved sitting with his family and watching the movie with them.  


Feuilly smile grew more confident, and it was a beautiful thing to see. “Me too.”  


“We could watch it tonight,” offered Bahorel. “I'm babysitting Gav again, but he wouldn't mind...too much.”  


“Sorry, but I've got work tonight,” Feuilly said. “I've picked up some extra shifts before Christmas.”  


Bahorel nodded. He understood...well not really since he hadn't been into the office almost all December, but theoretically he understood.  


“Rain check?”  


“I'd like that.”  


“It may be after Christmas,” Feuilly admitted.  


“That's okay.”  


“And it...it wouldn't be Netflix and Chill...we'd actually be watching the movie,” Feuilly added firmly, but he seemed embarrassed.  


Bahorel laughed. “We'd definitely be watching the movie. But that sounds like a funny story.”  


Feuilly groaned. “It was an awful first date.”  


“Yikes.”  


“I know. The guy sucked...” Bahorel raised a brow and Feuilly hurried on, “I didn't mean like that! He was just a rubbish date. All he wanted was to get off...Is your mind ever out of the gutter?”  


“Nope.” Bahorel grinned cheekily.  


Feuilly rolled his eyes, but Bahorel knew he didn't really mind. “Whatever. It was the worst date I've been on in awhile. Then I got so busy with work that I kinda forgot about all my relationships, friendships or otherwise.”  


“What about your family?” asked Bahorel.  


Feuilly sighed. “They live out in Colorado. Because of my schedule this year I won't be able to go see them, but I've sent gifts back and I will be seeing them for New Year's Eve.”  


“Wow, Colorado. That's insane. What made you decide to move to New York?”  


“I needed to get away from home,” Feuilly explained. “I love my family, but sometimes they can be a bit much. They take up a lot of time and energy, and I just needed to get away from that so that I could figure out my own life. New York seemed as good a place as any for a new start. So now I've got a small apartment in the Heights.”  


“Well I am glad you will get a chance to see them after the holiday,” Bahorel smiled.  


“What about your family?”  


“Man, they're crazy. My mom raised the five of us on her own in an old house in Queens. She was strict, but it was only because she loved us. I was the first one in the family to graduate from college, and go on to law school. She was so proud. I'll never forget that day. We're a close family. I'll be going up there for Christmas. We always have a huge family dinner on Christmas day and exchange gifts. It's a lot of fun, if not a bit crazy.” Bahorel was smiling warmly.  


“That sounds incredible,” Feuilly said, and he meant it. “So you have four siblings? Are they younger or older?”  


“I am the oldest, and I have four sisters.”  


“Wow.”  


“Yeah. Lots of women in the house,” Bahorel smiled. “But it gave me a lot of respect for women, so I'm grateful to them. And you? Do you have any siblings?”  


“Just two. Their twins, younger than me by three years,” Feuilly explained. “So I'm the oldest too. But I've got a huge extended family, all live in Golden with us, so it's like I've got more.”  


“Golden, Colorado…where is that?”  


“Well Colorado is a state in the United States,” Feuilly began drily.  


“Stop being such a smart ass.” Bahorel teased.  


“Fine. Golden is halfway between Denver and the Rockies. I spent my childhood climbing those mountains with my parents, and when I got older I would go up there by myself to think.”  


“It must be beautiful there. Do you miss it?”  


“Sometimes,” Feuilly said with a nostalgic look in his eyes. “I miss being able to escape the noise of people. There was always someone dropping in, my Aunt Carol with her kids, or Aunt Lauren with hers. Or my uncles stopping by to talk to my dad, or my cousins coming to see us….it was a lot and sometimes I felt smothered. The open air always helped. There isn't anywhere in New York like that...not really. If I'm desperate I will sit on my fire escape and watch the world below, but it isn't the same.”  


Bahorel listened with a smile. “You make it sound so beautiful out there.”  


“It is. If you ever get the chance to hike the Rocky Mountains you should. There's nothing else quite like it.”  


“I hope I get the chance.” What he didn't say was, _I hope you're with me when I do_.  


Feuilly glanced at his watch and started. “It's getting late. I've got a shift in an hour. You don't mind…?”  


“Not at all. Have fun at Macy's,” Bahorel replied.  


“This has been lovely. I hope we get to do it again sometime?”  


“I would like that,” Bahorel smiled.  


“I'll text you.”  


“I look forward to it.”  


Feuilly seemed to be working up his nerve, and then suddenly he kissed Bahorel on the cheek. It was light, barely there, almost like the feeling of a butterfly's wing beating against him. But even though it didn't last long Bahorel found himself smiling for the rest of the day.  


He watched the other man leave, Feuilly's cheeks were red. Possibly from the cold, but Bahorel suspected it was something more.  


-  


“Hello?”  


“Courfeyrac?”  


“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac sounded calm for the first time in days.  


“Can you talk right now?”  


“Yeah. I'm just at home doing some baking. What's up?”  


“I don't think I'll be home in time for Christmas,” Combeferre's voice was light, like he was trying not to sound too distressed.  


“But you promised.” Courfeyrac hated how childish he sounded, but he couldn't help it.  


“I know. But there just aren't any flights. Apparently there is a storm that is preventing any flights to New York right now.” Combeferre argued. Courfeyrac could imagine him, his shoulders dropped from weariness, his glasses pushed back on his head making his hair go in all directions. And more than that Courfeyrac could imagine the bags beneath Combeferre's eyes, the shadows which lined them...it broke his heart.  


“I know,” Courfeyrac said, glaring out their apartment window at the gray sky above.  


“I wanted to call now, to prepare you for the worst,” Combeferre said.  


“Thank you.”  


“How are you holding up, sweetheart?”  


“Fine. It's just one Christmas,” Courfeyrac seemed to promise them both.  


“I know. I can't even remember the last Christmas we spent apart.”  


“We were eight. Your family decided to go away to visit friends in Florida. I was alone.” Courfeyrac tried not to cry. He couldn't let Combeferre know how hard this was going to be for him.  


“But you won't be this year. You've got friends coming over on Christmas eve. It will be fun,” Combeferre promised.  


“And on Christmas day? I'll be alone.”  


“I'm sure you could ask someone to come stay with you.”  


Courfeyrac shook his head. “No. It would be pathetic for both of us, I couldn't ask someone to do that for me. And what about you. You definitely have no one.”  


Combeferre sighed. “No, you're right. But I'll make do. And so will you. I know this is hard, but I'll come home as soon as I can. And then we can have our own Christmas.”  


Courfeyrac nodded dully. “It's time for me to pull the snickerdoodles out. I better go.”  


“Alright, sweetheart. I love you.”  


“I love you, Combeferre. Just,” Courfeyrac's voice broke, “just come home to me. Just come home.”  


“I will.”  


-  


That evening Marius came home from his temporary job to find Cosette in the kitchen. She was baking, and her hair was tied up in a messy bun to keep it out of her way. Across her nose there was some flour, as well as a smudge across her cheek. When she turned to see him her eyes brightened.  


“You're home!”  


Marius breathed in deeply. Their small apartment smelled of the spices she had been using, the whole place seemed warm by the heat coming from the stove.  


“I'll always come home to you,” Marius said.  


Cosette went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “How was work?”  


Marius shrugged. “Nothing special. And the baking?”  


“I've made a bit of a mess,” Cosette confessed.  


Marius chuckled. “I can see that, here.”  


Gently he rubbed away the flour that had been on her nose and cheek. She blushed. “Thank you. I hadn't realized that my mess had extended to my own face.”  


“It's alright. Your face could never be considered a mess,” Marius complimented her.  


Cosette shoved him lightly. “We're already married, you needn't try so hard. Why don't you put on an apron and help me.”  


Marius nodded and went to grab one. “These cookies smell delicious, what are they?”  


“Molasses, ginger cookies. Papa taught me to make them. I've got one more batch to put in, and then I'll need to start on the madeleines. Could you find the recipe in the book?”  


“Of course,” Marius said anxious to be of any help he could be.  


“Do you think our friends will like them?” Cosette asked as she pulled the tray from the oven.  


“They've always liked your baking.” Marius confirmed.  


Cosette smiled. “I talked to Courfeyrac this morning. He said that he is also baking some cookies, and was planning on making fudge. I think Feuilly is bringing drinks, and Enjolras is cooking something?”  


“Enjolras is cooking?” Marius sounded stricken.  


Cosette laughed. “I wouldn't worry too much. I emailed him some fool proof recipes. Whatever he chooses will be wonderful.”  


“You're a saint,” Marius said smiling at his wife.  


Cosette laughed. “And Jehan said they would bring fruits and veggies. I think there was someone else invited, only I can't remember.”  


“Perhaps one of Combeferre's colleagues?”  


“Oh I know who it was! Bossuet, from the ER?”  


“Oh right, do you know what he's planning on making.”  


“I think Courfeyrac said that he had offered to bring something dinnerish...I don't know,” Cosette replied. “It does feel strange to have a dinner party so late, casual or not.”  


Marius nodded, “but with all our schedules, I suppose it is the only time that works.”  


“You make a good point.”  


“Did Courfeyrac mention Combeferre?”  


“The poor dear, of course he did. He's not sure if Combeferre will be able to make it. I hope for his sake that he does,” Cosette said.  


Marius murmured his agreement. He couldn't imagine spending a Christmas away from Cosette. Even now he looked forward to the day, to see the look of surprise on her face when she opened her gift. He thought nothing of himself, since he knew there would be no returning gift, but he didn't mind. He just wanted to make her happy. So long as she was content, he would be as well. He looked over to see her measuring some ingredients and couldn't help but smile. This may not be their richest Christmas, but at least they were together in the home they had made for themselves. He couldn't ask for much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support! My readers are truly some of the best, and I am so thankful for you. Let me know what you think, any predictions on what may happen? If so I'd love to hear them! Leave a kudos if you haven't (or if you have you could always comment with an extra kudos *winks*)  
> See y'all tomorrow with chapter nine!  
> May your days be merry and bright:  
> T.W.o.W.


	10. Ten Lords A Leaping

Wednesday December 21  


During Joly's lunch break, the young man made his way to Fezziwig's. He had made his mind up during his first shift, and if he didn't talk to Bossuet and Musichetta today he was afraid he might lose his nerve.  


Luckily he found both of them at the pub, talking cheerfully together. This stopped when they saw his hurried entrance.  


“Joly,” Musichetta said softly. “It's good to see you here.”  


Bossuet could only nod.  


“Have you thought about our offer?” Musichetta asked tentatively. The place was only half full, and no one was near enough to hear their conversation. Still Musichetta spoke softly as if to not scare him away. He appreciated that. He appreciated her.  


“Yes.” It was soft, tentative, but Joly was sure of his answer,  


“That's good,” Bossuet said. “Whatever the outcome, we're glad that you've come to tell us...uh you have come to tell us right?”  


Joly nodded, more confident this time. “I have. I wanted to let you know that I've spent a lot of time thinking about this, and well...I'd like to try it. I'm not sure that I'll know what I'm doing or that I'll be any good at any of this...but um….I'm willing to try since I like you both….a lot...and you guys have been generous enough to uh….to make the offer. So I'd like to try. If you two are both still willing that is?”  


“Of course we are. There's no time like the present!” A gleam came into her eyes, “the Christmas present, that is!”  


Joly looked over to Bossuet. “And what about you?”  


Bossuet beamed at him. “Christmas present and Christmas future. You've got both of them with us as long as you want. I'm glad that you're willing to try this.”  


“I am warning you though, I've never been with a man,” Joly cautioned.  


“We can go slow. Take all the time you need,” promised Bossuet.  


“That's like what you said on the ice.”  


Bossuet's smile grew. “You remember all that?”  


“Of course I do. What did you mean when you told Musichetta that you had fallen. I didn't see you fall.” Joly said with a slight furrow between his brows.  


Bossuet exchanged a look with Musichetta before saying, “I was telling her that I had fallen for you, silly.”  


Joly blushed. “Oh.”  


“Yeah, I was trying to let her know that I might be interested in you without freaking you out.” Bossuet explained.  


“I see,” Joly said.  


“Are you still okay with this? We know it can be a lot,” Musichetta said laying her hand on his.  


Joly nodded. “Yeah. I am. I feel great.”  


“We've missed you around here,” Bossuet added. “What have you been up to?”  


“Well actually the most crazy thing happened at work today,” Joly said with a small smile. Rumors had spread all around the hospital, it was all anyone could talk about.  


“Where do you work again?” Musichetta asked leaning across the bar.  


“Bellevue Hospital, and we had a man admitted today who thinks he's Santa Claus.”  


-  


Bahorel was woken up by his phone ringing. It was eleven already, but the man liked to get his beauty's rest. He answered it. “Hello?”  


“Bahorel?” Feuilly sounded like he was panicking. Bahorel didn't like to imagine him panicking.  


He rolled over in his bed, and blearily asked, “what is it? What's wrong?”  


“Can you meet me somewhere. I think...I think I need your help,” Feuilly begged.  


Bahorel was up in a flash, gripping his phone tightly to his ear. “Where do you want to meet?”  


“Starbucks? The one in Times Square? I'll meet you there in an hour. Oh please say you'll come,” Feuilly sounded desperate.  


“I'll be there.” Bahorel said gravely.  


An hour later and Bahorel was desperately searching the crowded Starbucks for Feuilly. He didn't know what was wrong, but he was anxious to help in anyway possible. It wasn't long before he saw the pale brown hair of the other. Feuilly stood when he noticed Bahorel and rushed into his arms. Taken aback Bahorel held still as the man clung to him. Then, cautiously, he wrapped his arms around Feuilly and held him tight. “What is it? What's wrong?”  


“They're horrible. Horrible!” Feuilly was sobbing.  


Bahorel led them back to the table and sat down across from Feuilly. “Tell me what this is all about. Are you hurt? What's wrong?”  


Feuilly's eyes were red from crying, and his nose appeared red. However instead of seeming sad he looked angry. “They've taken Mr. Kringle away.”  


“Is that what this is all about?” Bahorel was relieved. He had been afraid...well he wasn't sure what he was afraid had happened, but he was glad that Feuilly was alright.  


Feuilly looked up at him, his visage darkening. “Don't make it sound so trivial. He is a good man, Bahorel. He doesn't deserve this treatment.”  


Bahorel sighed. “You better tell me what's happened, from the beginning.”  


“There have been some rumors going around the store that Mr. Kringle is mentally ill. They're vicious rumors, and for the most part people have been ignoring them...Only recently they've been getting worse. One of the other Santas, a Mr. Sawyer, insists that Kris is insane. He says the worst things whenever he gets the chance, just because Kris is kind. Kris decided to ask Mr. Sawyer about why he was saying such things, and I guess things got heated. From the way Mr. Sawyer tells it, Kris came at him with his cane and beat him. I know he must be exaggerating...but others weren't so sure. Today, Kris was removed from the premises and has been taken to Bellevue. I've gone to see him...he's failed his mental exam and is going to be recommended for permanent commitment. I told him not to lose hope, that I have a friend that can help,” here Feuilly looked over a Bahorel from under his lashes.  


“Feuilly, I don't understand,” Bahorel said slowly. “What can I do?”  


“There's going to be a hearing in front of the New York Supreme Court. Kris needs someone to represent him, and I remembered that you are an attorney,” Feuilly explained using his hands as he spoke.  


“Feuilly –”  


“Please, you're the only hope he has right now.”  


“Feuilly, listen –”  


“No, you listen. You love Christmas, you understand how important it can be for a child to have something to believe in! Isn't that what you're trying to do for your neighbor's brother? I thought you would understand more than anyone.”  


Bahorel was smiling. “I do. That's what I was trying to tell you. I was trying to say that I will take his case.”  


“You will?”  


“Yes.”  


“That's great. Oh my god, that's wonderful! What do we do first?” asked Feuilly.  


“We?”  


“I want to help you, any way I can. I've gotten you into this ordeal, I'm not going to abandon you in the middle of it,” Feuilly said, a smile tugging at his lips. “So what do we need to do first?”  


“I should probably go to the hospital and meet with my new client,” Bahorel said lightly.  


“Let's go.”  


-  


Joly checked his watch. “Oh, I better be heading back. My lunch break is almost over.”  


“I'm glad you came to see us today. After work, do you want to come over and watch some Christmas movies?” asked Musichetta. “I get off early today.”  
“I'd like that.” Joly smiled.  


“We'll see you there.” Bossuet promised, kissing Joly's cheek. The shorter man blushed before hurrying out.  


He made it back to the hospital with plenty of time to spare. It was hard to focus on his work, since so many of his coworkers were talking about their interesting new patient.  


While in the break room getting coffee, Joly overheard an interesting conversation.  


“Did you see who has gone to see 'Santa'?” asked a nurse.  


“No, who's visiting him?” her friend asked.  


“I think it's a lawyer.”  


“A lawyer?!”  


“Yeah, that's what I overheard him say at the front desk. He's from Seaton, Davies and Gaily Esq. Heard him say it himself. Apparently he will be representing ol' Saint Nick.” The woman said laughing at her joke.  


“You don't say. Wasn't that the company that represented Apple last year?”  


“Probably. Their very prestigious, could hardly believe my ears when I heard it. What would they want with such a flimsy case?”  


“Must be pro bono.”  


“Must be. C'mon we better be heading back.”  


Joly stood still. Why would the old man need a lawyer? His curiosity was aroused, but instead of going to “subtly” walk by Mr. Kringle's room like so many others had done, he would be returning to his work. He understood the desire for privacy, and even if the man was crazy...well he didn't deserve so many people trying to look at him. Joly felt sorry for the old man, and couldn't help but wonder what would become of him.  


-  


As Bahorel was leaving Mr. Kringle's room, Feuilly, who had been waiting outside, rose uncertainly. “Well? Can you manage it?”  


Bahorel checked his watch and then nodded. “It's not going to be easy, but I will do it.”  


Feuilly's worried expression broke, and he smiled. “Thank you. Thank you so much –”  


“Enough of that. I need to get back to my apartment. I've got some books to look over and then I will need to head to the courthouse….but...”  


“What is it?”  


“I'm supposed to start looking after my neighbor's little brother in about an hour or so,” Bahorel said slowly.  


“I can do it, so you can focus that is.” Feuilly assured him.  


Bahorel nodded. He was uncharacteristically solemn. Bahorel didn't like to take things seriously, but when it came to Feuilly...well he was willing to do anything. They headed back to his apartment in silence as Bahorel contemplated what needed to be done. Already his brain was making lists and organizing them based on priority. He may hate being a lawyer, but he was a damn good one.  


Back at his apartment, Bahorel distractedly welcomed Feuilly in before heading straight to his living room. He began grabbing at law books that had remained untouched in months. Having a decent stack he brought them to the breakfast bar and began making piles. He then disappeared into his office and brought back a yellow legal pad. He found his reading glasses, and pulled the nearest book towards him.  


“Is there anything I can do to help?” Feuilly asked.  


“Not at the present moment. Please do make yourself at home.”  


-  


Feuilly had moved to the couch and was watching Bahorel. He couldn't help but admire the studious look the other man had on his face. Although he had enjoyed Bahorel's teasing and flirtatious nature on their date, he was currently feeling strong attraction to Bahorel's more serious side….and the man did look good in reading glasses. He tried his best not to distract the other, but he couldn't help but stare. He was so grateful to Bahorel for helping, for being willing to work this hard without the promise of reward. It was appealing. There was a lot about the other man that Feuilly found attractive.  


Abruptly Bahorel shut his book, rose and said, “I need to change and go to the courthouse.”  


“Do you want me to come? Er, to the courthouse that is,” Feuilly offered.  


“No. Wait here. Gav will be here soon, and someone really does need to look after the kid,” Bahorel said before leaving for his bedroom.  


When he returned, he had changed into a dark gray suit with a blue tie. It looked good on him, and Feuilly couldn't help but add it to the list of things Bahorel looked hot in. He watched the other man grab the legal pad and shove it unceremoniously into a brief case.  


“I'll be back as soon as I can,” Bahorel promised. “Don't let Gav have sugar and caffeine. If he does, Eponine, his sister, will kill us both. Also make sure he doesn't do anything stupid or dangerous...he will, you know. So just –”  


“Don't worry,” soothed Feuilly, “I have babysat before.”  


“Yeah, but not Gav,” muttered Bahorel. “Lord help us all. Look I need to go. I'm trusting you.”  


The door shut.  


“And I you,” murmured Feuilly to the empty apartment.  


Not ten minutes later and the door opened and in entered a small boy. He was short, probably only coming up the Feuilly's waist, and his head seemed almost comically large. But he was a cute kid, and Feuilly could already tell he would be trouble.  


“Who are you?” he asked.  


“I'm Feuilly. I'm one of Bahorel's friends.”  


Gavroche looked around the apartment sneakily as if expecting an attack from the side. “Where exactly is Bahorel?”  


“He's gone off to do some business. I'm to look after you until he gets back.”  


“How do I know that I can trust you? You might have just broken in,” Gavroche said cheekily, still not letting down his guard.  


“Let's assume for argument's sake that I have not.”  


“Fine. But I don't think Eponine's gonna like having a stranger watch me,” Gavroche continued.  


“Then maybe it can be our little secret. You don't need to tell her.”  


“Fine. What do I get in exchange?”  


“Are you asking for a bribe?” Feuilly asked skeptically.  


Gavroche nodded. “Sure, since you're offering! I know Bahorel's got some Dr. Pepper around here –”  


“No.” Feuilly said hastily. The kid already seemed wired and antsy, Feuilly had not interest in seeing what havoc the child could wreck on a sugar high. Plus he remembered what Bahorel had told him. “Tell me, Gav, what do you know about non-newtonian fluids?”  


The child's smile grew even wider. “Nothing, but they sound awesome.”  


“How about we try a little experiment,” offered Feuilly, “in exchange for your silence?”  


“I think that could be arranged,” Gavroche said offering his hand.  


Feuilly shook it and then began to search Bahorel's kitchen for cornstarch.  


-  


As Bahorel was leaving the courthouse he got a call. He let out a sigh. It was from his firm  


“What is this we here about you taking on a case?”  


“Good evening Mr. Seaton, how are you?” Bahorel said with forced geniality.  


“You've gone and taken this Santa Claus case, are you insane?” Mr. Seaton continued shouting into the phone.  


“Yes I have.”  


“And why in God's name would you do such a thing?”  


“Perhaps because I believe he is innocent,” Bahorel replied coolly.  


“You're one of our best lawyers, Bahorel, but you haven't been in for a month. You go off the grid, say you need some space and we respected that. But now you come back with a case that will make us the laughing stocks of New York? Care to explain yourself.”  


“I believe I already have.”  


“Not good enough. You will drop this matter, or we shall have to let you go.” Mr. Seaton threatened.  


“Alright. I quit.”  


“What?” spluttered the older man.  


“You heard me, Mr. Seaton. I quit. I am taking on this case without your prestigious name and I will win it.”  


“Young man –”  


“Good day to you, Mr. Seaton. And have a merry Christmas.” Bahorel interrupted. He hung up the phone and smiled. He had always wanted to do that.  


When he got back to his apartment he found Feuilly and Gavroche playing with something at his kitchen table. They were talking animatedly and appeared to be getting on well.  


“Bahorel!” the child exclaimed. “You're back. Look what Feuilly made for us to play with. It's called oobleck!”  


“It's just cornstarch and water,” Feuilly smiled. “How'd things go at the courthouse?”  


“The hearing is set for Saturday. And I quit my job.”  


“You what?”  


“Cool!” Gavroche said. Whether it was in response to Bahorel quitting his firm or the noise the white concoction made when he slapped it, Bahorel wasn't sure.  


“Gavroche, you better clean this up. Bahorel and I have some talking to do,” Feuilly said lowly.  


To Bahorel's shock, the child actually obeyed. He was pulled aside by Feuilly into the living room.  


“You quit your job?”  


“Yes,” Bahorel was actually quite proud of the fact.  


“What about the whole work is work, and not in this economic climate?” Feuilly asked repeated Bahorel's words back at him.  


“They didn't want me to take on the case, but I did. It's no matter.”  


“No matter?”  


“Look, I hate being a lawyer. I hated working for their firm. I haven't gone in for about a month. Quitting was only inevitable.” Bahorel reasoned.  


Feuilly looked shocked. “When I asked you to take on this case...I didn't think it would lead to you quitting your job.”  


“But it has, and I am probably better for it. Now I've got some work to do.” Bahorel said dismissively.  


Feuilly just nodded stunned.  


After changing, Bahorel returned to his stool at the breakfast bar and continued studying his books.  


“What are you doing?” Gavroche asked, hopping into the stool nearest him.  


“I'm defending Santa Claus,” Bahorel responded seriously.  


“What?”  


“Gavroche, why don't you come over here. Let Bahorel work,” If Feuilly was mad at Bahorel, the other man couldn't tell it from his voice.  


-  


Reluctantly Gavroche slid down from his perch and joined Feuilly at the couch.  


“What does Bahorel mean that he's defending Santa?” Gavroche asked.  


“One of the men who works at Macy's has said some nasty things, which have led Mr. Kringle to being admitted into a mental institution unfairly. Other people think he is mentally ill because he believes he is the real Santa Claus. There is going to be a trial because of it,” Feuilly explained patiently.  


“Mr. Kringle...I think I met him. When Bahorel dragged me to Santa Land,” Gavroche said.  


Feuilly thought back to the day he had met Bahorel, Mr. Kringle had been working that day. “Yes I think you did. What did you ask for, for Christmas?”  


Here Gavroche looked embarrassed. “I asked him to bring my sister home for Christmas...I said if he was the real Santa he would be able to do it.”  


“Bring your sister home? Doesn't she live with you?”  


“That's Eponine. She's the oldest. I was talking about Azelma. She's at college at the University of Southern California in LA. Because of the tuition, she can't come home often. She's always working, and all her money goes towards school,” explained Gavroche softly. “I haven't seen her since she left.”  


“Couldn't you fly out and visit?”  


Gavroche shrugged. “I've asked Eponine, but she says there isn't money in the budget...and it's hard for her to get off work.”  


“Where does she work?”  


“New York City Ballet.”  


“Really?”  


“Yeah...why?”  


“I've got a cousin who dances with them. I think she's Dewdrop in _The Nutcracker_ right now.”  


“Oh you must be talking about Floreal. She and Eponine are good friends.”  


Feuilly was surprised at how small the world could be at times. “Yes, that's her name.”  


“She's nice. Brings me sweets,” Gavroche said with his crooked smile. “Feuilly, is Mr. Kringle really Santa Claus?”  


“I don't know, Gavroche, but I like to think that if there is a Santa then it would be Mr. Kringle.”  


“Do you think Mr. Kringle will be okay?”  


“I don't know,” admitted Feuilly.  


Gavroche nodded. “I hope he will be.”  


“I hope so too,” Feuilly said sadly. “Come on, lets have some hot coco. I'm sure Eponine won't mind, just this once.”  


Gavroche's smile brightened immediately as he followed Feuilly into the kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Winter Solstice everyone! We're getting close to the end! I'm kinda emotional, and not ready for this to be over tbh. Thank you for all the support, truly. I have loved reading all your comments and replying to them. I'll see you tomorrow with chapter eleven!  
> May your days be merry and bright ~T.W.o.W.


	11. Eleven Pipers Piping

Thursday December 22  


Cosette left her home at half past nine with determination in her heart. Today was the day she was going to sell her hair in order to buy Marius a present. He was going to be gone practically all day, so she had no fear of him discovering what she had done until later tonight. She would have to give some flimsy excuse then as to why she cut her hair, but at least it gave her plenty of time to come up with one. She knew he would ask questions, but she wouldn't tell him the real reason, not until Christmas day that is. She had made an appointment and intended to keep it.  


She double checked the address on the paper she clutched in her gloved hand before entering the artistic looking building.  


She had found this place through Craigslist only days before. The individual promised to cut and buy human hair in order to make wigs from it. Cosette had talked with them once on the phone, and had agreed to come in for a consultation. A lot of strange people can be found in Brooklyn.  


“Hello,” Cosette was greeted by a woman with shockingly dyed pink hair, an edgy haircut and a septum piercing. “You must be Cosette. My name is Della James.”  


“Nice to meet you Ms. James,” Cosette said taking off her gloves and shaking hands with the woman.  


“Oh please, call me Del. Now you were interested in selling your hair?”  


Cosette blushed. “That's right, here. I can show you if you would like.”  


Del nodded.  


Carefully Cosette took off her winter's hat and uncoiled the long braid from her head.  


Del's eyes widened. “My, Cosette, this is gorgeous. Are you sure you want to sell it?”  


Cosette wasn't sure, but she nodded anyway. “Yes. How much do you need?”  


Del appraised the Cosette's hair before asking, “may I?”  


Cosette stepped closer. Del ran her fingers through the thick, chestnut locks. She seemed to weigh it in her hands and carefully looked it over as if measuring it in her head. “I think if we cut it to your shoulders?” suggested the young woman.  


Cosette nodded. “Yes alright, and how much would you pay me?”  


Across Del's face spread another thoughtful look. “I can offer you $80, I know it isn't much –”  


“Deal.” Cosette interrupted, before her heart could betray her.  


Cosette was led to a chair in the other room which sat opposite a mirror. There Del carefully combed out Cosette's hair before putting it into a series of ponytails. Then, with the precision of a surgeon, she began to cut them off. Cosette was sure the other woman could hear her art pounding, but she tried to remain brave. It was just hair. It would grow back.  


“What do you make wigs for?” asked Cosette, a little afraid of the answer.  


Del smiled as she worked on Cosette's hair. “I make wigs for theatrical productions.”  


“Oh.” That wasn't as bad as she feared. “And you know how to style hair too?”  


“Yes. I often style the wigs for the production, styling hair on real people isn't so different. There, what do you think?”  


Cosette looked in the mirror. Her hair came just shy of her shoulders, and curled in at the ends. It suited her. Somehow in the fifteen minutes since meeting her, Del had read her and found a way to cut her hair in a manner which befitted her. She was in awe of the artistry that must take. Her face seemed to take on an entirely different shape, foreign, but she liked it. Cosette was speechless and therefore could only nod. Del brushed her off and walked her to the door.  


“Thank you so much, Cosette. If you ever decide to sell your hair again, well you know where to find me. Here's the agreed upon amount. Have a lovely Christmas,” Del said shutting the door.  


Cosette counted the money, and momentarily forgetting about her hair, she smiled. She had enough. She almost flew into town in order to find Marius the perfect gift.  


It didn't take long.  


In a small shop off to the side, Cosette found a beautiful watch chain. It was simple, its elegance derived from the metal it was made of and not over the top ornamentation. Cosette could imagine it along with Marius' grandfather's watch and couldn't help but smile. Quite simply it was perfect.  


She paid for the precious coil of metal before heading home.  


Setting it upon their kitchen table, Cosette retreated to her room. It was only then when she had taken her hat off did she remember the true cost of the present. She had to admit, Del had done a lovely job in styling her hair. It wasn't too edgy, but it wasn't nearly as old fashioned looking as her previous style. However she was still unused to her appearance, and knew Marius would be as well. She found her curling iron, and set about to tending to her hair. Curling it had long since been a calming ritual for Cosette. It gave her time to think, while simultaneously soothing her. It was this age old ritual that Cosette returned to seeking comfort.  


-  


This time they were in Jehan's kitchen. Eponine sat across from Fantine and Jehan, a cup of tea in front of her.  


“I'm sorry, I wasn't able to find anything,” Eponine said. “The book was destroyed, or lost after one of the moves. I'm truly sorry, Fantine.”  


Fantine nodded. Although she didn't cry out, her eyes looked suspiciously wet. “I see.”  


“I'm sorry, Fantine. I failed you,” Jehan said.  


Fantine shook her head. “You didn't. You tried your best, and that was more than I could have asked for. And thank you, Eponine, for looking. Oh, Cosette, where could you be?”  


“What did you just say?” Eponine and Jehan asked in unison.  


“I said –”  


“No, what did you just call your daughter?” Eponine interrupted.  


“Cosette.”  


“But isn't her name Euphrasie?” Jehan asked.  


Fantine's brow furrowed. “Yes. But I always called her Cosette when she was a baby. Jehan, Eponine, what is it? You're scaring me?”  


Eponine looked up to meet Fantine's eyes. “I know what happened to your daughter.”  


“What?” Fantine looked shocked. “But before...”  


“You didn't call her Cosette before. You told me her name was Euphrasie.” Eponine said. “I never knew of a Euphrasie being taken in, but as for Cosette. I know exactly what's happened to her. We both do.”  


Jehan seemed to be in a state of shock. “Yes….yes that's right.”  


“Let me start from the beginning,” Eponine said a smile gracing her lips. “After you dropped Cosette off, my parents treated her horribly. They treated all of the orphans pretty badly, but Cosette got the worst of it. I was forbidden from speaking with her, and I'm sorry to say that I bullied her as a child. I'm not proud of the fact, Fantine, but I never had any good role models as a child. This continued for years, steadily things grew worse and worse for my parents...and they took it out on Cosette. However, all that changed one Christmas eve. A man came, saying he was looking for a little girl. He was dressed poorly in a yellow coat, and my parents thought he must be crazy. Things hadn't been going well for a while, and they were eager to get rid of Cosette as they blamed her for most everything. They were surprised to find out the man was actually quite wealthy. He adopted Cosette, and took her away. I wouldn't see her for a long time.  


I found out later, from Cosette, that this man was the man who called in an anonymous tip on my parents. He hated seeing how the children were being treated. Apparently it broke his heart.  


I didn't meet Cosette until three years ago. A friend and I were out drinking, and he wanted to talk to her but was too shy. I dragged him over...and I remembered her. The two of them soon began dating, and I got to know her better. I apologized numerous times, until she said that she had forgiven me and it would be best for us both to move on. We're pretty good friends now. I was her maid of honor in her wedding.”  


“I remember you now,” Jehan said looking at Eponine as if in a new light.  


“What?” Fantine asked eyes wide. “She's married?”  


“Yes,” Eponine smiled warmly. “She's married to one of the kindest young men I know. They seem very happy together.”  


“But...but she's so young.” Fantine was clearly struggling with the idea that her daughter was married. It seemed to trouble her that Cosette had married so young.  


“It may seem crazy,” Jehan broke in, “but when you see them together, you'll realize that they are perfect for one another.”  


Eponine laughed. “It's true. Their domesticity is a bit sickening at times.”  


“I...I… where does she live?”  


“Brooklyn.”  


“I'll take you today,” Jehan promised.  


“I'd like that. Thank you, Eponine. For sharing more of your story with me. For finding my daughter.”  


Eponine smiled. “I'm happy to help. I'm glad you will get to see her again after all this time. I'm sorry for any trouble or inconvenience my parents may have caused you.”  


“Don't apologize for them,” Fantine reprimanded gently, “they don't deserve you for a daughter.”  


Eponine blushed.  


“If my daughter is anything like you, then I am blessed,” Fantine sighed.  


“She's better,” Eponine mumbled.  


“Oh hush.” Fantine pulled Eponine into a warm hug. “Don't do that to yourself. I know what that's like, I've done it before. It's toxic. Cosette is Cosette, and you Eponine, you are you.”  


Eponine smiled, tears in her eyes. “Go. Find your daughter. Jehan should know where they live. They and Marius are good friends.”  


Jehan laughed. “I actually called Marius when I was trying to find you, Eponine.”  


“You called my daughter's husband, to help find my daughter?” Fantine seemed baffled yet amused.  


“I suppose the universe works in strange ways,” Jehan said.  


“I suppose it does.”  


-  


Cosette had just finished wrapping Marius' gift when there was a knock on the door. She hid the present, confused who might be knocking, and then went to open the door. Standing there was Jehan with a woman Cosette did not know.  


“Oh! Hello, Jehan. Did you ever find the child you were looking for?” Cosette asked pleasantly.  


“That's uh, actually why we're here, Cosette,” Jehan looked like they were trying to control their emotions. “I would like you to meet Fantine. Fantine, this is Cosette, your daughter.”  


Cosette's hand slid off from where it was resting on the door handle. She seemed to pale as her eyes looked from Fantine to Jehan. “Swear to me this isn't a joke.”  


Jehan shook their head, marveling, “all this time. It was you we were looking for, Cosette. And you were right under our noses.”  


“Hello,” Fantine said shyly. “I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.”  


Cosette nodded. “You better come in. Both of you.”  


-  


Fantine entered her daughter's apartment and couldn't help but have her heart break. The place was so cramped, and there seemed to be a draft coming from everywhere. However, the place was lovingly decorated with a small tree in the eaves. The kitchen, though small, looked well used and loved. It may not be much, but Fantine could see that it was a home.  


“Please, have a seat,” Cosette offered. “Can I get you anything to drink?”  


They both shook their heads.  


“I think I should start from the beginning,” Fantine said softly. “When I was in college I had a relationship with an older man. He abandoned me for his career...but I was already pregnant with you. You were the most beautiful thing in my world, Cosette. I loved you more than my own life, but I knew there was no way I could provide for the two of us. So I decided to return home to Boston. My parents, your grandparents, were very strict. They would have thrown me out had they known that I had had a child out of wedlock, so I left you with the Thenardiers in New York. I regret doing so. You can't know how much. Back in Boston, my parents cut me off regardless. I suppose you could say I was a disappointment to them. My life became pretty grim then. I longed to send for you, but my life wasn't one for a child. But I worked, everyday so that one day I could see you again. I've built a life for myself. I have a home and some savings now. I was ready to come find you.  


I came to New York to find that you had vanished. I searched all the records, but there was nothing. I was ready to kill myself. I had been such a horrible mother, I didn't deserve to live. But that's when Jehan saved my life. They brought me back from an edge that I didn't even know I was on. They did everything so that I could find you...it turns out you weren't as far as I feared. I know you don't need a mother at your age, but I would like to be a part of your life if you want me to be.”  


Cosette who had been crying silently, stood and hugged her mother fiercely. “Of course I want you in my life!”  


Fantine held her daughter tightly, tears in her eyes.  


“You see, Fantine, you really have a wonderful life. Don't you see what a mistake it would have been to throw it away?”  


Fantine mouthed one last thank you to Jehan.  


They nodded before slipping out the door.  


Cosette pulled away laughing. “Please say you'll stay for dinner. Marius will want to meet you!”  


“I will.” Fantine promised.  


“Oh, I should call Papa and tell him!” cried Cosette happily.  


“Who did save you from the Thenardiers?” Fantine asked curiously.  


“A kind old man named Jean Valjean. He's been so good to me, spoiled me quite a bit. I miss him dearly.”  


“Where is he?”  


“He's old now. He lives in our home in South Carolina. He can't travel much, and Marius and I don't have the money to go see him this Christmas,” Cosette explained morosely.  


Fantine nodded. “I see.”  


“We were going to,” hastened Cosette, “but then Marius lost his job a couple months ago, and we had to move out of our Manhattan apartment to here. Papa tried to give Marius money, but he won't take it. He doesn't want to be in debt to anyone.”  


Fantine looked thoughtful. “I can understand that.”  


And that's when Marius came home from work.  


-  


“Hello darling I – what have you done to your hair?” exclaimed Marius, not even noticing the woman sitting beside Cosette.  


“Do you like it? I decided to cut it.”  


Marius was rendered completely speechless.  


“Marius. I want you to meet my mother, Fantine. Remember when Jehan called you? Turns out I was the child they were looking for.” Cosette let out a little laugh.  


Marius shook hands with Fantine still in a daze. “Nice to meet you...”  


Fantine laughed. Marius couldn't help but notice that it was the same laugh as Cosette's. “It's nice to meet you, Marius.”  


“I've invited her for dinner. I know we don't have much, but I had to.”  


“Right.”  


“Marius, stop acting so weird.” Cosette teased him lightly. She laid her hand on his and instantly he calmed down.  


Supper was a glorious affair, although it was small, the little family was perfectly content. Once Marius had regained his senses, he became endearing and Fantine quickly saw why her daughter had married him. It was a lighthearted evening with the promise of doing it all again sometime.  


Cosette offered to walk her mother out of the building.  


“I want to give you two some money. Before you protest, I have been saving this money up for you since you were born. It was to be your college fund, but it's a little late for that now. I'm afraid it isn't as much as I hoped, but I want to help you two in any way that I can.” Fantine said softly.  


“I'll speak to Marius, but he won't want to take it,” warned Cosette.  


“Tell him it's yours. It has been, I've just been watching over it until I found you again.”  


Cosette smiled. “Thank you…thank you.”  


Fantine kissed Cosette's forehead before turning to leave. “I'll see you soon, my dear.”  


“Goodnight, Mama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the continued support! I love you guys. Two more chapters to go!!! See y'all tomorrow.  
> May your days be merry and bright:  
> ~T.W.o.W.


	12. Twelve Drummers Drumming

Friday December 23  


Friday morning and the winds changed. They blew fiercer and colder than they had before. The ceiling of gray above the city hung low. There was a feeling of expectation in the air. For an hour or so, the huge city was quiet. But then demand outweighed fear. Last minute shoppers left the safety of their homes to find the last of their gifts, business men and women strode fearlessly towards work, fearless so long as they got there before the storm hit. There was a feeling in the air. Everyone knew it. Today there would be snow.  


-  


Grantaire woke up to his phone ringing. “Hello?”  


“Oh shit, did I wake you up?”  


“Good morning to you too, Enjolras.” Grantaire laughed recognizing the voice. He then added “And maybe just a little.”  


“Sorry,” Enjolras apologized. “I figured past ten o'clock would be okay.”  


Grantaire's reply was warm and muted, since his face was still buried in his pillow. “I went out.”  


“On a Thursday night,” there was a sound of teasing in Enjolras' voice.  


“Company Christmas party, couldn't be avoided,” Grantaire replied lightly. “'Sides there was a Secret Santa so I had to go.”  


“Get anything good?” Enjolras asked.  


“One of the kids knitted me a scarf,” Grantaire smiled thinking of the lumpy, but surprisingly warm purple scarf he had received.  


“That's so sweet,” Enjolras sounded amused. “I was calling to see if maybe you wanted to do something tonight? After your show?”  


Grantaire rolled over in his bed. “What did you have in mind?”  


“Anything. I just want to see you,” Enjolras replied quickly.  


Grantaire chuckled. “Alright. I don't have any plans. Where do you want to meet?”  


“Stage door?” suggested Enjolras.  


“Don't tell me you're coming again,” Grantaire was secretly delighted.  


There was a pause.  


“You are, aren't you.” A warm feeling filled Grantaire. It had been a long time since he had last felt this way about anyone, and it took him a minute to recognize it. It was adoration. Complete and full adoration for a ridiculous man who had come to the ballet for him.  


“I was planning on it,” Enjolras finally admitted.  


Grantaire could do nothing to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. “Alright, then. I'll see you tonight.”  


“I can't wait,” promised Enjolras.  


“Are we sure you aren't some figment of my imagination, sent here so I won't be alone this Christmas. You are rather impossible,” Grantaire asked with a false tone of levity.  


Enjolras let out an amused noise. “I am not some creation of yours that your tired brain has made up. I am flesh and blood just like any other man.”  


Grantaire shivered at his words. He was about to ask what else Enjolras was when his door was violently tossed open.  


“R! Wake up R! You promised to come help me,” begged Gavroche. “You promised to help me wrap Eponine's gifts!”  


“I better go,” Grantaire said into the phone. “After all, a promise is a promise.”  


Enjolras laughed. “Go. I'll see you tonight.”  


“Until then.” Promised Grantaire hanging up the phone. “So where is Eponine? I presume she left?”  


“She's been out for _hours_ ,” Gavroche stressed. “I've been waiting forever.”  


“Sorry, Gav. Now where are her gifts?”  


Gavroche ran out of the room and returned with his stash. Within the pile was a pair of gloves, a slouchy hat, fancy hand cream, a necklace, and a pair of earrings. There were also a couple books on self defense, one about Misty Copeland, and a _Humans of New York_ book.  


“Please tell me that none of this was shoplifted,” Grantaire said eying the hoard.  


Gavroche pouted. “As if! I stopped doing that years ago!”  


Grantaire raised an inquisitive brow at the boy.  


“Fine. Bahorel helped me with the self defense books, and Feuilly recommended the ballet one and the picture book. Then Floreal took me shopping and helped me pick out the fashion shit.” Gavroche admitted quietly.  


Grantaire's look softened immediately. “You got all this for Eponine?”  


“The necklace and earrings are for Azelma...I was thinking I could ship it to her after Christmas...”  


Grantaire pulled the little boy into his arms. “This is so sweet of you. You know you didn't have to do all of this.”  


“I know...I just wanted to have a proper Christmas, with everyone opening gifts, not just me. And I know Eponine misses Azelma, I do too, so I thought I could buy her presents. So maybe she could forget being sad for a while.”  


Grantaire tightened his hug around Gavroche. “You're a good kid, Gav.”  


“So will you help me?”  


“Course. Go get the wrapping paper from the living room.”  


While Gavroche was gone, Grantaire looked over the Misty Copeland book curiously. It didn't seem like something Bahorel would have helped Gavroche pick out, did he say it was Floreal? When the little boy got back Grantaire asked, “Gav, who recommended this book?”  


Gavroche looked up and then said, “Oh that was Feuilly.”  


“Who's Feuilly?”  


“Bahorel's friend. Only I think they're boyfriends. They don't really act like friends...besides Bahorel is always looking at Feuilly out of the corner of his eye. It's really gross. Anyway, yesterday night Feuilly took me out to a really cool bookstore and helped me find presents.” Gavroche explained.  


Grantaire just nodded. “What was Bahorel doing?”  


“He's working on a case.”  


So he is a lawyer, thought Grantaire. “I see. Does Eponine know about Bahorel substituting babysitters?”  


“No, and you mustn't tell her! She'll be very cross, and Bahorel needs to work on this case. It's very important, and he shouldn't be distracted.” Gavroche said quickly.  


“Alright,” sighed Grantaire. “I won't tell her. At least not until after Bahorel's case. She doesn't need any more stress on her plate as it is. Now, let's get started.”  


Grantaire took the presents which were more difficult to wrap, leaving Gavroche with the books. They worked in silence for a few moments when Gavroche asked suddenly. “R, do you believe in Santa Claus?”  


Grantaire studied the boy. Gavroche had not been one to believe in Santa Claus, or the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny. He was a smart kid, if not a little bit cynical. Eponine had recognized the fact, and saw no need in deceiving him. But still, Grantaire wondered if Gavroche had missed out on something that he wouldn't be able to get back. His own niece and nephews still believed and seemed happy in their ignorance.  


When Bahorel had come to Eponine telling her about his plan she had agreed. She had wondered if maybe she had been wrong in making Gavroche grow up so fast. She had resented doing so, but had out of necessity. She couldn't help but wonder if she had inadvertently done the same thing to Gavroche. Grantaire disagreed with her, he knew she was just trying her best...and yet he hated to see Gavroche's sense of wonder abandoned. That's why he asked, “what's this really about?”  


Gavroche's shoulders dropped, and he suddenly looked very small. “Bahorel's case. He's defending a man who thinks he's the real Santa Claus.”  


“Ah.”  


“Feuilly says he is. Or that he could be,” Gavroche said frowning at the confusing nature of adults.  


“What's bothering you?” Grantaire asked.  


“If he is the real Santa...then I said something really mean to him when I met him.”  


“What did you say?”  


“I told him if the was the real Santa then he should bring Azelma home for Christmas, and it would be no trouble for him to do if he was real.”  


“Ah.”  


“I feel awful about it, Grantaire. 'Specially now that he's being held at Bellevue.” Gavroche sounded miserable.  


Grantaire smiled at him. “Why don't you write a letter to him? I'm sure it would make him feel better.”  


Gavroche eyed him thoughtfully. “Maybe. But it would have no way of getting there.”  


“We'll think of something.”  


“I wouldn't know what to say.”  


“Think it over. Something will come to you,” promised Grantaire returning to wrapping the gifts.  


Gavroche nodded. “Okay. Thank you, R.”  


Grantaire ruffled the boy's hair. “Of course.”  


-  


During Joly's shift at work, he felt drawn to the psychiatric wing. He knew he had no reason to be there, and that he should give the old man some respect and privacy...but he couldn't help it. After standing outside the door, seemingly frozen he decided to enter.  


“Hello, Joly. I was wondering when you would be stopping by,” the old man who had been sitting at the window turned with a smile on his lips.  


“How...how did you know my name.”  


“I know a lot of things,” shrugged Mr. Kringle.  


“Oh...okay. I – I didn't mean to interrupt your privacy or anything. I'm not really sure why I'm here,” admitted Joly.  


Mr. Kringle looked him over, and then seeming satisfied by what he had seen he offered, “why don't you sit down.”  


“You mean you're okay with me being here?”  


“You haven't come to stare at me like so many of your coworkers...besides I miss talking to people,” Mr. Kringle admitted.  


Joly sat. “I read that there is going to be a trial tomorrow.”  


“Yes.”  


“Are you nervous?”  


“I have met with my lawyer, he seems to be a good man. I was told not to lose hope, and I don't intend to either.”  


“I see.”  


“Tell me, Joly, have you stopped fretting so much over Christmas past? After all you have the present and future now.”  


“Sir?”  


“Those two young people you met.”  


“Oh. Yes. I...”  


“What is it?”  


“Only how could you know about that?”  


Mr. Kringle grew somber. “I know quite a lot. Few people, however, chose to believe.”  


“Do you know the outcome of the trial then?”  


Mr. Kringle let out a small laugh. “No. I'm good with people. Events, not so much.”  


“I'll be thinking about you, tomorrow. I hope the outcome is favorable,” Joly said.  


Mr. Kringle smiled. “Thank you, Joly. Merry Christmas.”  


“Merry Christmas, Mr. Kringle. And god bless us, everyone,” he murmured softly as he turned to leave.  


-  


When Enjolras entered the theatre he was grateful for the shelter it provided. The wind had picked up since the morning, and the clouds were more foreboding. A storm was coming and soon.  


It was easy to forget such a thing, however, watching the glittering ballet. A normal person would have tired by it now, but to Enjolras it was like he was among friends. He began to recognize other dancers, the man who played Drosselmeyer, the woman who was Dewdrop. They were coworkers of Grantaire's, and Enjolras wanted to know more about them. He wanted to know more about everyone and thing that touched Grantaire's life.  


During intermission, a funny thing happened.  


Enjolras was in the lobby, stretching his legs when he bumped into Patria. Upon seeing him she brightened up at once.  


“Hello, Patria,” Enjolras said, slightly taken aback.  


“Hello, Enj.”  


“What are you doing here?”  


If his tone had sounded accusatory she seemed not to notice. Instead she was watching the approach of a young man. “How rude of me! Enjolras, this is Sean a dear friend.”  


At the words 'dear friend', Sean seemed to droop. “Ah, yes hello. You must be the famous Enjolras. Patria doesn't stop talking about you.”  


“I see?”  


“Sean here invited me to come see the ballet with him. Isn't that sweet?” Patria asked angling towards Enjolras.  


“Certainly.”  


“You aren't jealous are you? He is only a dear friend,” Patria said softly.  


Not softly enough, for at her words Sean looked more dejected.  


“Not at all. Patria would you mind my talking to Sean for a moment?”  


Patria smirked. “I suppose not. Just don't cause a scene.”  


She wondered off, and Enjolras was left alone with Sean. “So you like Patria?”  


“No, not at all. We're just...dear friends.” Sean ended lamely.  


“Go for it.”  


“What?”  


“Ask her out. She likes you.”  


“No...no she definitely doesn't.”  


“She could. She was willing to come see this ballet again, even though she doesn't like ballet.” Enjolras reasoned.  


“Her family would never approve.”  


“Why not?”  


“Well because of you.” Sean argued. “You're who they have selected for her to marry.”  


“I won't be marrying Patria.”  


“Why not? She's perfect,” Sean sighed.  


“Sean, what is it exactly that you do?”  


“I am currently looking for some internships, I hope to run a company one day, either my own or perhaps manage one for someone else.” Sean said modestly.  


Enjolras gave him a card. “My father's company has some open positions. Tell them I recommended you, that should get you the job.”  


“Really? Thank you, thank you so much!”  


“Who knows, maybe one day you will be running the company,” Enjolras said with a smile.  


“But what about you?”  


“I have no interest in running my father's company. Nor do I have any interest in pursuing Patria. In fact I've been meaning to find a way out, but if you are willing to ask her out then my parents' hands will be tied.”  


Sean looked at Enjolras in awe. “You really don't mind?”  


“There's someone else I'm interested in,” confessed Enjolras.  


“Will Patria consent to this? She isn't property that can be sold or bought you know.”  


Enjolras smiled, he was beginning to like this young man. “I can't answer that, but we both know who can. I'll make you an offer. I'll step away. Out of her social circle and out of her life, and you can step in. If she protests well I'll try something else. Are you amenable? Do we have a deal?”  


Sean smiled and shook hands with Enjolras.  


Patria came back, a coy look on her face. “What was that all about?”  


“Come, Patria,” Sean offered her his arm. “We best be getting back to our seats.”  


“I am sorry for taking so much of his time,” Enjolras apologized.  


“So much of his time? What are you talking about?” Patria asked.  


“We really should be going,” Sean persisted.  


She nodded and left with him, a troubled look on her face.  


Enjolras couldn't help but feel his spirits lighten. Maybe things would work out for the best. He looked outside the glass windows and noticed the smallest snowflakes begin to fall.  


-  


During act two, Enjolras watched Grantaire and Eponine take the stage, and couldn't help but be in awe of their talent. They worked so closely and well together, and any envy Enjolras had previously had was laid aside. It was magnificent to watch. It was crazy to think that a month ago he would never have chosen to go to the ballet for fun, and now here he was watching a man he could possibly love dance. They hadn't been strangers that long ago, but now it felt like Enjolras knew someone famous. Crazy at it was, seeing Grantaire perform was awe inspiring. Enjolras felt like a child again, like anything could happen.  


By the time he had left the theatre the snow had increased. There was now a light layer of white covering every surface. Enjolras could see fresh footprints in the snow as people walked out, and just as quickly he could see them being filled in. The snow was falling more consistently now, but was still to light to be called heavy snow fall. Enjolras made his way around to the stage door where he found Grantaire waiting. The dancer was bundled up in his well worn coat, a green beanie, and had a lumpy violet scarf around his neck. Grantaire had an expression of wonder as he watched the snow fall, a lazy smile spread across his lips.  


Upon seeing Enjolras, his eyes lightened and he asked. “Wanna do something crazy?”  


-  


Grantaire led Enjolras into an abandoned Central Park. No one was around due to the cold and the lateness of the hour, making it feel like they owned the place. Snow continued to fall, and Enjolras couldn't help but be reminded of the scene when the Prince leads Marie into the magical snow covered forest.  


“It's beautiful,” sighed Enjolras, his breath visible in the cold air.  


“I would give it all to you, if it were in my power.” Grantaire said, taking Enjolras' hand.  


Together the two of them wandered through the snow covered paths of the park. They didn't talk much, but they didn't need to. They were comfortable in silence together. Anything that needed to be said could wait. Enjolras barely noticed the cold. It was easy to forget it when he was in the company of someone so handsome, and Grantaire did look handsome. The fat snowflakes clung to Grantaire's dark hair and lashes, and suddenly Enjolras could imagine himself fifty years from now with Grantaire still by his side. Normally when Enjolras pictured his future he was afraid...but not this time. Not tonight. Enjolras tightened his grip on Grantaire's hand and the other man turned to look at him, a questioning look upon his face.  


“Thank you for tonight. It's magical out here.”  


Grantaire didn't speak for a moment, but then suddenly he kissed Enjolras. Enjolras could feel his heart pounding. He moved his free hand to Grantaire's neck, and he pressed into the other man wanting nothing to be between them.  


-  


They made for a pretty picture. Just a couple kissing in the snow. The light from the street lamp was made hazy by the stuff, giving the scene an ethereal glow. Enjolras had never looked more like Apollo, his hair glowing in the light. Grantaire's own hair contrasted strongly with the flakes of snow which were caught in it. His cheeks were red, probably from the cold, but also from the thrill of kissing the man he loved. The world was silent, as if holding its breath. For now it was just the two of them, nothing else seemed to matter.  


-  


“Wow,” mumbled Enjolras once they had pulled apart to breath.  


Grantaire laughed. He looked Enjolras in the eye and said softly, “I like you. I really like you.”  


“I like you too.” Enjolras said breathlessly.  


Grantaire smiled his beatific smile which Enjolras had come to cherish so dearly.  


“Come back to mine for coffee?” offered Enjolras.  


“Alright.”  


“I um...really do just mean coffee. It doesn't have to be anything else,” Enjolras stammered. He wanted to take this slow. He wanted to do it right.  


Grantaire put his hand on Enjolras' cheek. “It can be whatever you want it to be.”  


“You're okay taking this slow?”  


Grantaire seemed to consider it for a moment then replied, “so long as I get to spend time with you, I'm okay.”  


Enjolras smiled.  


-  


Back in the safety and warmth of Enjolras' apartment, two men fell asleep together. The snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter, I'm not sure that I'm ready to be done yet... I hope you have enjoyed this story, I have loved writing it for you. Thank you to everyone, from those of you have been with me from the start to the ones who have just joined. I appreciate you all. One more chapter left.  
> May your days be merry and bright:  
> ~T.W.o.W.


	13. My True Love Gave to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is rough, I didn't have as much time to edit it as I would have liked. Hope you enjoy~  
> PS this was published with eight minutes to spare

Saturday December 24: Christmas Eve  


Courfeyrac woke up early, and looked out his window. The world was covered in snow, and it appeared to be still coming down. Any secret hope that he had had that Combeferre might have found a flight vanished. He had no time to wallow in self pity right now as he was hosting a party and there were things to do. Reluctantly Courfeyrac rolled out of his warm bed, his toes recoiling at the coldness of the hardwood floors, and made his way to the bathroom. There was a lot to do today, and there was no time like the present to begin.  


-  


Christmas eve morning and Eponine was up early as well. It was still dark out, and from what she could tell it was still snowing. The stuff was coming down rather quickly, it was so thick that it was difficult to see the building across the way. She could only hope that she could get to work today. She made her way to the kitchen and was surprised to see Gavroche was already up.  


“Gav, what are you doing?”  


The little boy looked up at her, a look of chagrin spreading across his face. “I'm writing a letter to Santa Claus.”  


“What?” Eponine asked with shock.  


“For the man who's trial is today. The one who thinks he's Santa?”  


Eponine remembered that some people had been talking about it at work, but she had brushed it aside. She nodded.  


“Anyway, I wrote it...but now I don't know who to address it to. R told me we would find a way to send it to him, only he isn't here.”  


Eponine smiled, Grantaire had never come home last night. “Alright, love, I can help you with it.”  


“You? But you don't believe in Santa.”  


“Everyone deserves to get mail, especially those who are going into court today.” Eponine said softly. She may not believe, but perhaps Bahorel had convinced Gavroche. A question entered her mind and she frowned, “Gav, how do you know this man?”  


“Oh, Bahorel is representing him in court. His boyfriend Feuilly works with him,” Gavroche replied.  


“I see.”  


“Please don't be mad, but recently Feuilly has been watching me so that Bahorel could do lawyer stuff. I should have told you sooner, but you seemed really stressed. Anyway Feuilly is a lot of fun. He's good with kids too. I think he works with some special needs kids during his free time and –”  


“It's alright, Gav. I'm not mad,” Eponine promised.  


“Really?”  


“I think defending Santa Claus in court is a valid exception. Now as for addressing your letter, couldn't you just give it to Bahorel and he could give it to Santa.” Eponine suggested.  


Gavroche let out a whining sound. “I want to send it to him, 'Ponine!”  


“Alright. I have an idea. I know just what to write.”  


-  


Grantaire woke up with Enjolras curled around him. Last night hadn't led to anything, since Enjolras had requested they take it slow. They had merely kissed a few more times and cuddled in his warm bed. Grantaire hadn't intended to stay the night, but the two of them had fallen asleep together. It was nice waking up with someone beside him. Grantaire smiled down at Enjolras. The blond's breathing was slow and even. His eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks and his lips were slightly parted. Grantaire considered himself lucky. He couldn't believe he was waking up next to someone this stunning. He noticed Enjolras shift, before his eyes blinked open.  


“Good morning,” Grantaire said snuggling closer to Enjolras.  


Enjolras looked up at him and murmured, “'morning.”  


“Sleep well?”  


“Incredibly, and you?”  


Grantaire smiled. “Better with you here.”  


Enjolras blushed. This close to him, Grantaire could see the color as it spread across Enjolras' cheeks and down his neck. Even the tips of his ears were painted red.  


“You're gorgeous this way. I'd like to paint you.”  


Enjolras opened his mouth but closed it without saying anything.  


“Can I kiss you?” asked Grantaire.  


Enjolras could only nod.  


It was a short kiss, chaste and brief, but behind it was the promise of more.  


“Do you still like me? Morning breath and all?” asked Grantaire.  


“I still like you.”  


“God, what did I do to deserve you?”  


Enjolras smiled. “You're such a sap.”  


“C'est la vie boheme.” Grantaire said. “Speaking of which. I should probably get back to my place so I can get ready for the show.”  


Enjolras nodded but seemed reluctant to see the other man go. “I'll see you tonight?”  


“Yeah. Where should we meet?”  


“I'll pick you up at the stage door. Will you wait for me?” Enjolras asked.  


“I'll wait for you.” promised Grantaire. “I'll always wait.”  


-  


Bahorel donned his suit, deftly tying his tie and straightening the cuffs. He looked impeccable. Although it was early yet, he was wide awake prepared to do whatever he had to in order to win the case. Taking his nice winter coat from the back of his closet, he put it on and headed out into the storm. He wouldn't be coming home for a long time.  


He arrived at the square building and went up the steps, careful of any icy patches. Inside he could see Feuilly pacing nervously. The other man was also wearing a nice suit. Bahorel couldn't help but appreciate how well tailored it was on him, clinging to all the right places.  


“You look nice,” Bahorel said lowly.  


Feuilly seemed to jump. “Oh it's you. Do you think we can win this?”  


Bahorel considered the question before answering, “I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. I'm ready for whatever they throw at me.”  


Feuilly nodded. “Thank you again.”  


Bahorel smiled tightly. “We better go.”  


Inside the courtroom, the city's lawyer was already seated. Bahorel recognized the other man as one Thomas Mara. Mara was a punctilious bastard, and with his smug looks and arrogant airs he would have made a good target for Bahorel to try his boxing on. Luckily it had never gone that far, but Bahorel lived for the belief that there was always tomorrow.  


“Is everything alright?” Feuilly asked softly at his side.  


“It will be fine.” Bahorel assured them both.  


At the other table sat Mr. Kringle. He smiled at his friends before turning back to face the judge's stand. Bahorel made his way to the table. “You doing alright, sir?”  


“Yes. I'll be alright.”  


“Have faith in me, Mr. Kringle. I know what I'm doing.”  


Mr. Kringle smiled sadly. “I have plenty of faith in you. Whether I have faith in the Judge is another question entirely.”  


“Judge Harper is a good man. He'll do the right thing.”  


“The right thing? And what if the law does not agree with your 'right thing'?” asked Mr. Kringle sadly. There was no sting to his words, just a sad resignation.  


“It will work out. It will.”  


Mr. Kringle merely nodded, before turning to look at the empty seat again.  


Minutes later the bailiff entered and said, “All rise, this court is now in session. The honorable Judge Henry X Harper presiding.”  


The judge entered and asked everyone to be seated. Each lawyer gave a brief opening statement to the man before he said, “Mr. Mara. Your witness.”  


“The city would like to call Kris Kringle to the stand.” Mr. Mara said dryly.  


Kris looked at Bahorel who nodded to him once. The old man stood and made his way to the witness stand.  


“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” asked the bailiff.  


“I do.” Mr. Kringle said solemnly.  


“Now, Mr. Kringle, do you believe you are the real Santa Claus?”  


“I do.” Mr. Kringle said a twinkle in his eye.  


“The city rests your honor,” Mr. Mara said with a smug look.  


From there the case continued. It was brutal as Bahorel tried to prove that Kris wasn't insane, since he was really Santa Clause. Mara had almost laughed before pointing out that Santa wasn't real. A brief recess had then been called, and upon the judge's return he announced he was willing to hear the evidence before ruling. It was a reprieve, if only a short one. Then the real work began.  


Bahorel questioned his first witness, Mr. Macy, the owner of the franchise at which Kris worked at. And then it was Mara's turn. It soon became evident that Mr. Macy was second guessing where he stood as Mara asked question after question. Finally the lawyer asked:  


“Mr. Macy do you believe that the man sitting before you is the real Santa Clause?”  


Mr. Macy licked his lips nervously, frowning before replying. “I do.”  


Mara's jaw dropped. Bahorel felt relief course through his veins.  


“Am I free to go?” Mr. Macy asked the judge.  


“Mr. Mara?”  


“No further questions, your honor,” Mara replied with a grimace.  


Mr. Macy rose and made his way back to his seat. As he passed one of the rows he leaned in and whispered, “Sawyer, you're fired.”  


The man in question turned white as a sheet, before glaring daggers at Mr. Kringle.  


“– my next witness is Bobby Mara.” Bahorel finished.  


“Objection! This is preposterous. What does my son have to do with this.”  


“You honor,” Bahorel answered calmly, “I am only trying to prove that this man here is the real Santa Claus. I don't mean to trick anyone.”  


“Very well, proceed.”  


Bahorel nodded. At this point, a small little boy was led to the witness box.  


“Hello, Bobby. How are you?” Bahorel began.  


“Alright.”  


“Are you excited for Christmas?”  


“Yes.”  


“In your preparations for Christmas did you ever go to Macy's Santa Land to meet Santa?”  


“Yes.”  


“Is the man you met there in this room today?”  


The little boy nodded before pointing to Mr. Kringle.  


“And how do you know that this man is Santa Claus?” Bahorel asked patiently.  


“Because my daddy said so.”  


Around the room there were some titters of nervous laughter before the judge banged his gavel.  


“Thank you, Bobby. No further questions.”  


“Mr. Mara,” the judge asked, “any questions.”  


Mr. Mara stood, opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, “No your honor. However I would like to amend my case. It is no longer a question of if this man is Santa Claus, but rather is he the one and only Santa Claus? I ask Mr. – to prove that some competent authority will recognize this man as the one and only Santa Claus.”  


Judge Harper seemed thoughtful and said, “Alright. What do you have to say Mr. –”  


“Your honor,” protested Bahorel, “I will need more time, to find witnesses –”  


“Alright. You have an hour. Court is adjourned.” The Judge said banging his gavel.  


Bahorel rose and left the courtroom.  


“Bahorel?” Feuilly asked, coming to meet him.  


“I need more time. I need to think!” Bahorel said sitting on the bench. “How can I prove that he is the only Santa. That some competent authority will recognize him as such?”  
v “I think I can help with that.”  


“Who are you?” Bahorel asked looking at a man he had never seen before. The man was dressed in a blue postal uniform, with a bored sneer across his face.  


“You Bahorel –?” asked the man.  


“That's me.”  


“This is for you.” The man handed him an envelope.  


Bahorel looked at it. It read:  


_Santa Claus  
C/o Bahorel –  
Manhattan Misdemeanor Treatment Court.  
Supreme, Civil Term. 60 Centre St.  
New York, NY 10007 _  
__

__“Gavroche,” Bahorel murmured looking at the letter's return address.  
_ _

__“Huh? Never mind. So this belong to you then?” asked the post officer.  
_ _

__“Yes.”  
_ _

__“Look maybe you could help me with something. The dead letter office is full of letters to Santa Claus, but this is the first one that's got a real address. My friends and I were wondering if we could clear out those letters by bringing them here.”  
_ _

__Bahorel studied the man before a smile spread across his face. “Can you get them here within the next hour?”  
_ _

__“Probably, unless the snow gets much worse,” the man hazarded a guess. “So can we bring 'em.”  
_ _

__“Yes. Yes. Bring them. Bring them all!” Bahorel said gleefully.  
_ _

__The mail carrier smiled. “You sure are a strange one. I'll bring 'em though. Will be nice to get the space back.”  
_ _

__“Bahorel, what are you thinking?” Feuilly asked.  
_ _

__“I'm about to save Christmas.”  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__“Combeferre? Where are you? Please pick up. I miss you.”  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__“Your honor,” Bahorel began confidently, “I would like to enter some evidence. These letters are addressed to Santa Claus and have been delivered to Mr. Kringle by the United States Post Office. This displays that the United States Post Office, and by extension the federal government, see this man as the one and only, real, Santa Claus.”  
_ _

__Bahorel turned to where Mara was seated and saw the man gape at him. The Judge looked slightly amused before regaining his serious expression. “By any chance, Mr. – are there further exhibits. Three letters hardly constitute what the United States Post Office, or the federal government, may think about this man.”  
_ _

__“Certainly, your honor.” Bahorel said, and then he gave a great loud whistle through his teeth.  
_ _

__Through the courtroom doors entered, revealing seven postal men, each carrying three mail bags. The men dumped the contents of the bags across the judge's bench. Hundreds of letters were strewn across the space, each one addressed to Santa Claus.  
_ _

__The judge looked at the evidence upon his desk with an incredulous expression and laughed merrily before dismissing the case.  
_ _

__Bahorel rose, exhausted but with a smile.  
_ _

__“Thank you,” Mr. Kringle said shaking his hand.  
_ _

__“It was my pleasure.” Bahorel said sincerely. “Oh, and this is for you.”  
_ _

__From his pocket he pulled out the letter which had started it all. It was from Gavroche, and quite simply it read:  
_ _

__I believe. ~Gavroche Thenardier  
_ _

__Kris Kringle read the letter with tears in his eyes. “Thank Gavroche for me, and tell him that he might be getting a nice surprise this Christmas.”  
_ _

__Bahorel nodded, and promised he would do so. The lawyer made his way through the crowd and was ambushed by Feuilly. The lithe man practically leaped into his arms. “Congratulations on winning the case! I knew you could figure something out! God, I could kiss you right now!”  
_ _

__Bahorel smirked, his serious attitude dissipating swiftly, and with a wolfish grin asked, “why don't you?”  
_ _

__Feuilly smiled widely before wrapping his arms around Bahorel's neck and kissing him. It was a brief kiss, but as they pulled apart Bahorel couldn't help but laugh. “You're incredible, Feuilly. Absolutely fucking incredible.”  
_ _

__“Me? You won the case!”  
_ _

__“You're right. Maybe I'm not such a shit lawyer after all,” Bahorel teased. “In fact maybe I should open my own firm. After all, I did just win this case.”  
_ _

__“Shut up,” Feuilly said before kissing Bahorel again. After they had pulled apart Feuilly said, “some friends of mine are throwing a Christmas party tonight, feel like celebrating?”  
_ _

__“Hell yes,” Bahorel nodded.  
v “Great. I'll meet you at your place around eight thirty?”  
_ _

__“Should I bring any food?”  
_ _

__Feuilly smiled. “It's sweet of you to offer. If you're willing to that would be great. I'm sure Courfeyrac would appreciate anything you could bring.”  
_ _

__“Sounds perfect.”  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__“Combeferre? Why aren't you picking up? Please call me. I miss you. Eleanor misses you too. I wish you could be here tonight, but it's still snowing so I know you can't. I love you. Please call.”  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__Grantaire stretched his sore muscles, appreciating the release in his back as he cracked his spine. It was a long day, two day shows always were, but tonight he would be spending the evening with Enjolras.  
_ _

__“Eponine, do you want to come tonight? I talked to Enjolras, he said his friend would be happy for the company. You and Gav could both come.” Grantaire suggested.  
_ _

__“Are you sure it's not trouble.”  
_ _

__“Very sure. I hate to think of you spending the night by yourself.” Grantaire said. “Besides Enjolras wants to meet you, properly that is.”  
_ _

__“Are things really serious between you?”  
_ _

__“I dunno, maybe.”  
_ _

__“Do you want them to be?” Eponine asked with a soft smile.  
_ _

__“Yeah. Yeah I think I do. He's important to me, Eponine. Not like any of the others.” Grantaire answered earnestly.  
_ _

__Eponine seemed to consider his answer before saying, “alright I'll come, so long as it isn't a burden on anyone.”  
_ _

__“It isn't!” swore Grantaire.  
_ _

__“Okay. I can see how important this is to you. I can tell that he matters to you,” Eponine smiled.  
_ _

__“You're the best, Ep. Have I told you that recently?”  
_ _

__“Not recently enough,” she laughed. “You can always tell me how awesome I am.”  
_ _

__“I'll keep that in mind.”  
_ _

__“Are you ready to do this one more time before Christmas?” asked Eponine.  
_ _

__“God yes. Let's do this.”  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__“What about this?” Marius asked holding up another tie.  
_ _

__Cosette couldn't help but laugh, “sweetie, that's just like the one you have on.”  
_ _

__“Is it better though?”  
_ _

__“You look handsome no matter what you wear.” Cosette said curling her hair.  
_ _

__“I just want to look nice,” Marius said his shoulders slumping a bit.  
_ _

__Cosette rose from her small vanity and stood on her tip toes to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “Darling, I don't care what you wear. You look good no matter what. They're your friends, Mari. They love you, too. They aren't going to care that you wore that tie last time, or the time before. Wear whatever makes you happy, dear.”  
_ _

__Marius smiled as she kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Cosette.”  
_ _

__“Always.”  
_ _

__“Huh?”  
_ _

__“I'll always be in your corner. That's what I promised you on our wedding day, and there's nothing that can change that. I love you, Mari. No matter how rich or poor we are.”  
_ _

__“You always know what to say to comfort me,” sighed Marius.  
_ _

__“Don't worry about tonight. It's supposed to be fun.”  
_ _

__“Is that why you cut your hair?”  
_ _

__“What?” Cosette asked pulling away from Marius.  
_ _

__“Did you cut your hair to make money?” asked Marius, a pucker between his brows.  
_ _

__Cosette's defenses dropped. “Yes.”  
_ _

__“Why? Do you not think I can take care of us?” Marius' voice broke.  
_ _

__All tension left Cosette's body. “Oh, Mari, no. No it's just...it's...”  
_ _

__“What?”  
_ _

__“I wanted to wait until tomorrow to do this,” Cosette said laughing, “but there seems not to be any point.”  
_ _

__She opened a drawer in her vanity and pulled out a neatly wrapped box.  
_ _

__“Oh, Cosette.” Marius sighed, “you didn't need to.”  
_ _

__“I know I didn't, but I wanted to. Open it, Marius, c'mon.”  
_ _

__Marius blushed and opened the paper. Upon opening the box his eyes widened like saucers. “Cosette what is this?”  
_ _

__“It's a chain for your watch, silly.” Cosette laughed, but when she noticed Marius expression she asked, “what is it? What's wrong?”  
_ _

__“I...I sold it, my watch that is.”  
_ _

__“What?! Why would you do that?! You love that thing.”  
_ _

__“Not as much as I love you.”  
_ _

__Cosette blushed. “What do you mean?”  
_ _

__Marius rolled his eyes. “I wanted to do this tomorrow too, but I guess we can do this now.”  
_ _

__Marius went over to his sock drawer and brought out a small, brightly wrapped box.  
_ _

__Cosette stood stock still. “Marius, I thought we agreed not to do presents! You loon!”  
_ _

__Marius looked sheepish. “I couldn't help it. And you're one to talk.”  
_ _

__Cosette blushed again. “I guess you're right.”  
_ _

__Gently she unwrapped the paper, letting it fall to the floor. Then she opened the box and the world froze. Within the box were the most beautiful hair combs she had ever seen. They would have looked gorgeous in her longer locks, but she would have to be content with her shorter hair.  
_ _

__“What do you think?” Marius asked nervously. Up until she had cut her hair he had been so confident that the present was perfect, now he began to second guess himself.  
_ _

__Cosette beamed. Coming over to him and kissing his cheek she said, “they're beautiful. I love them.”  
_ _

__“Really?”  
_ _

__“Of course I do. They're from you.”  
_ _

__“I'm so relieved,” and he sounded like it too.  
_ _

__“Out of curiosity, who did you sell you watch to?” Cosette asked going back to her vanity.  
_ _

__“Mabeuf. He said I had until the end of the year to pay back what I owe, but after that he will have to sell it.” confessed Marius. “I thought I would be able to make the payments, but our rent is due and there are the bills to think of...I've accepted the fact that that watch is gone.”  
_ _

__Cosette turned in her chair suddenly. “How much do you need?”  
_ _

__“A hundred dollars, but –”  
_ _

__“I can pay that.”  
_ _

__“What?” Marius said suddenly taking aback.  
_ _

__“Fantine...mom's been saving up money for my college tuition since I was born. She says it's mine now, that she's just been keeping it until she found me...but it's ours, it has been all along. It's not much,” warned Cosette, “but we can buy back your watch. We'll be alright for awhile.”  
_ _

__“Cosette –”  
_ _

__“Stop being so stubborn,” Cosette stood suddenly, Marius seemed to fall back from where he had been fixing his hair.  
_ _

__“Huh.”  
_ _

__“Just accept the help. We need it. This isn't charity, Marius, it's not like what your grandfather is offering, or even papa. Mom's been saving it for me for years. It's ours, Marius. She wants us to have it.”  
_ _

__Marius just nodded slowly. “Okay. You're right. Thank you, Cosette.”  
_ _

__She smiled softly. “I know that was hard for you, but it'll be okay. We'll get through this.”  
_ _

__Marius just nodded. He turned back to the mirror and began trying to 'artfully' fix his hair.  
_ _

__“Do you think Mabeuf is in?”  
_ _

__“Cosette you can't seriously be thinking of getting my watch back right now. We've got a party to go!”  
_ _

__“I know, that's why you should have your watch! Besides it's not for a couple hours yet.”  
_ _

__“B-but the snow,” protested Marius weakly.  
_ _

__“Marius Pontmercy, don't tell me you're afraid of a little snow.”  
_ _

__“It's more than a little, we've had record breaking snow,” protested Marius.  
_ _

__“Are you frightened of it?” Cosette asked eyes twinkling.  
_ _

__Marius sighed. “I guess not.”  
_ _

__“Then let's go. Please! I want you to wear your watch. Everyone will compliment you on it, I just know it.”  
_ _

__Marius, who could never say no to Cosette, smiled, “alright. Let's go.”  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__“I don't expect you to call me back tonight, Combeferre, clearly you're busy or have bad reception or something or else you would have called. I just wanted to say the party is starting in a few hours. I wish you were here with me. I just...I just…Merry Christmas, dear. I love you. I'll call you tomorrow.”  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__“Hi, Enjolras, enjoy tonight's show?” Eponine asked stepping out of the warm theatre into the snow.  
_ _

__“The best I've seen yet.” assured Enjolras.  
_ _

__“I like him, make sure to keep him around,” Eponine joked.  
_ _

__Grantaire blushed. “We need to stop by our place to change and pick up some food and get Gavroche.”  
_ _

__“Food?” Enjolras asked.  
_ _

__“Ep insisted on making a batch of her world famous fudge,” Grantaire said with a grin.  
_ _

__“As a thank you for inviting Gav and I.”  
_ _

__“Really, Courfeyrac told us to invite anyone we thought would need somewhere to go. I think he wants to fill the apartment up with people so that he can disappear.”  
_ _

__Eponine and Grantaire shared a look. They both understood the solitude that could only be found in a crowd, perhaps too well.  
_ _

__“If you don't mind me asking, why?” Eponine asked.  
_ _

__“His boyfriend is away this year. He wasn't able to catch his flight, and with this weather? It seems impossible that he will be home this Christmas.” Enjolras said looking at the sky.  
_ _

__All three of them looked around. A layer of snow covered everything. It was at least three feet thick except for what had been already shoveled. Even so, snow was now covering the cleared paths making it difficult to get anywhere.  
_ _

__“We better hurry if we want to get there on time.” Enjolras said.  
_ _

__Grantaire wrapped one arm around Eponine's shoulders, and with his other hand took Enjolras' hand in his. “Onwards and upwards?”  
_ _

__“Onwards and upwards,” they both assured him with smiles.  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__Courfeyrac paced his apartment. The tree was decorated to perfection, candles were lit on the sideboard and on the table. Christmas music played softly in the background, and outside, through the window, Courfeyrac could see the snow continue to fall. A perfect scene. A perfect white Christmas. Everything was in place, the only thing missing was Combeferre. Courfeyrac had tried to call the other man several times during the day, but it had gone straight to voice mail each time. Courfeyrac tried not to let his worry show. It was unlike Combeferre not to call back, perhaps the snow was messing with his signal? Who knew. He was ready for his friends to come. He wanted to forget, if only for a short while.  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__By the time Enjolras and the others arrived most of the other guests had already arrived. Gavroche made his way straight towards the table with all the food and eagerly began munching on the snacks.  
_ _

__“Hello, Enjolras,” Cosette said coming to greet them. “What did you end up making?”  
_ _

__“The spinach artichoke dip,” Enjolras replied. Part of the reason they were so late was because Enjolras had forgotten his food at home. That meant that after they had gone to Grantaire and Eponine's, they had to stop at Enjolras' own place. “Thanks for the recipes, by the way.”  
_ _

__Cosette smiled warmly. “Of course.”  
_ _

__“Uh these are some friends. This is Eponine and Grantaire,” Enjolras said awkwardly remebering that it was typically polite to introduce strangers to one another first.  
_ _

__Cosette's smile widened. “I already know Eponine, we're old friends. But it's lovely to meet you Grantaire.”  
_ _

__“You as well madame.” Grantaire said courteously.  
_ _

__Cosette blushed. “Aren't you a charmer. I can see why Enjolras likes you.”  
_ _

__“Huh?” Enjolras asked, still holding the tray of dip awkwardly in his arms.  
_ _

__“You didn't have to say anything,” Cosette reprimanded. “The way you look at him says enough.”  
_ _

__Eponine couldn't help but laugh. “You should have seen them on the way over. It was all gooey looks and murmured love confessions.”  
_ _

__“It was not,” both men said at once.  
_ _

__This caused Eponine and Cosette to begin laughing.  
_ _

__“I'm sure Gavroche appreciated that?” teased Cosette.  
_ _

__“He loved it,” Eponine replied sarcastically.  
_ _

__“Is Courf here? This dip should really be warmed in the oven,” Enjolras said trying to hide his embarrassment.  
_ _

__“I think he's in the kitchen.” Cosette said, releasing them from their embarrassment.  
_ _

__Enjolras nodded and strode his way toward the other room.  
_ _

__“So, Grantaire how do you know dear Eponine?” asked Cosette.  
_ _

__“She and I dance together.”  
_ _

__“Really? That's incredible.” Cosette said cheerfully. “Eponine was always such a good dancer. As a child I was quite envious of her, I always wanted to take dancing lessons.”  
_ _

__“Did you ever get the chance?” Grantaire asked.  
_ _

__Cosette nodded, “I did, only turns out I'm awful at ballet. That's alright though, I will leave it to the professionals.”  
_ _

__Grantaire bowed a bit, “your modesty and praise are very sweet.”  
_ _

__“Oh, I like you. Please tell Enjolras that you must stay around.” Cosette laughed.  
_ _

__Grantaire laughed as well. “I hope to. By the way you look absolutely charming.”  
_ _

__Cosette blushed and thanked him hastily. She was dressed in a creamy white dress and red sweater. Her hair had been loosely curled, and on each side she wore the clips that Marius had gone through so much trouble to get her. She looked gorgeous.  
_ _

__“Have you met my husband yet?” Cosette asked. “Oh, let me introduce him.”  
_ _

__Grantaire was dragged over to a group of people who were chatting.  
_ _

__“Musichetta? Bossuet? What the devil are you two doing here?” Grantaire asked grinning widely.  
_ _

__“You know Bossuet?” Cosette asked in surprise.  
_ _

__“We're old drinking friends,” Grantaire explained.  
_ _

__“The doctor I was telling you about? Well we're friends with him and a few others, and he and his boyfriend invited us. Joly's here too. But what are you doing here?”  
_ _

__“I'm the date of one of those friends,” Grantaire said with a grin. “Where is Joly?”  
_ _

__“I think he's struck up a conversation with some guy named Bahorel.”  
_ _

__“Bahorel is here?”  
_ _

__“Don't tell me you know him too,” Bossuet's jaw dropped.  
_ _

__“He lives downstairs from me. I didn't know he would be here.”  
_ _

__“What a small world this is,” laughed Musichetta.  
_ _

__“Isn't it?”  
_ _

__“Grantaire, I would like you to meet my husband, Marius. Marius this is Enjolras' date.” Cosette said introducing the two men.  
_ _

__“You are dating Enjolras?” Marius asked with a little awe and a lot of fear.  
_ _

__“Um, yes?”  
_ _

__“I didn't even know that guy was interested in dating. He's always seemed like such a machine,” Marius said bleakily remembering the time Enjolras had yelled at him for thinking about a girl's beauty and how that was buying into the conventions of society.  
_ _

__“He's very human,” assured Grantaire with a suggestive wink.  
_ _

__Joly and Bossuet laughed, Marius merely looked uncomfortable.  
_ _

__“So you're Marius….”  
_ _

__“Um, yes?”  
_ _

__“I've heard a lot about you from Eponine,” admitted Grantaire.  
_ _

__“Good things I hope?” Marius asked shyly.  
_ _

__Grantaire nodded, “quite good. It's nice to finally meet you.”  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__“So what do you do?” Joly was asking the man he had just met.  
_ _

__“I'm a lawyer,” Bahorel replied taking a sip of his drink. “In fact I just came from court today.”  
_ _

__“Really?” Joly asked.  
_ _

__“Yeah. I just proved that a man is the real Santa Claus.” Bahorel bragged proudly.  
_ _

__“NO! The one who was committed in Bellevue?”  
_ _

__“Yeah, you heard about the case?” Bahorel asked.  
_ _

__Joly smiled. “Sorta, I actually work there. I met the man, he seemed very sweet. I'm glad you were able to win his case.”  
_ _

__“Thanks. I am too. I hope wherever he is he's happy.”  
_ _

__Joly smiled. “I'm sure he is. So um, how do you know these people?”  
_ _

__“Er, I don't,” laughed Bahorel. “I came as someone's date.”  
_ _

__“Same...or rather as two people's date,” Joly explained. “It's complicated.”  
_ _

__“Hey whatever, man, you do you...so long as its consensual and no one is getting hurt,” Bahorel shrugged.  
_ _

__Joly smiled, he was beginning to like this man.  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__In the kitchen Courfeyrac was cutting up the chicken someone had brought.  
_ _

__“Nice party,” Enjolras murmured softly. “Seems like everyone is getting along.”  
_ _

__“It's nice to have the place full,” Courfeyrac said not looking away from the bird.  
_ _

__“Are you doing alright?”  
_ _

__“I'm fine.”  
_ _

__“Courf –”  
_ _

__“Really. Go enjoy the party.” Courfeyrac laughed thinly.  
_ _

__“Alright. If you need anything, just let me know I guess.”  
_ _

__Courfeyrac nodded, but he wasn't really listening.  
_ _

__Enjolras rejoined the party and found himself sitting by Jehan. “How have you been? I haven't seen you in awhile.”  
_ _

__Jehan smiled. “I'm lovely, Enjolras, absolutely fabulous. I helped solve a mystery this season you know.”  
_ _

__“Did you? And what mystery was that?”  
_ _

__“I found Cosette's mom, or rather Cosette's mom and I found her. It was like a Christmas miracle,” they said dreamily.  
_ _

__“That's spectacular, Jehan. You're like a proper Christmas angel,” Enjolras said hugging his friend.  
_ _

__“Only, if I were I would be able to get Combeferre home.”  
_ _

__“You saw how sad Courfeyrac was?”  
_ _

__“It would be hard not to...although I suppose it's easier to miss in a crowd like this.” Jehan said distantly.  
_ _

__“I think that was the idea.”  
_ _

__“I wish that Combeferre comes home soon,” Jehan iterated, “Courfeyrac must miss him so.”  
_ _

__“Indeed,” speculated Enjolras sadly. He looked over to where his friend was in the kitchen. He looked like a ghost at his own party.  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__“Feuilly, what are you doing here?” Gavroche asked springing on the man in question.  
_ _

__“Why I could ask you the same thing!” Feuilly laughed.  
_ _

__“Enjolras, Grantaire's boyfriend asked us to come,” Gavroche explained.  
_ _

__“Enjolras has a boyfriend?” Feuilly sounded surprised.  
_ _

__“Duh. Why are you here?”  
_ _

__“Courfeyrac and Combeferre are dear friends of mine,” Feuilly explained. “It's good to see you, Gav, but isn't this a little late for you?”  
_ _

__“Eponine said I could stay up as a special treat.” shrugged the boy without concern.  
_ _

__Feuilly smiled. “Would you like me to go introduce you to some of my friends?”  
_ _

__Gavroche nodded. He would like that, he would like that very much.  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__By eleven o'clock Courfeyrac was forced to join the party. There was nothing else he could do in the kitchen, and everyone insisted he join them. He found that everyone and their dates had become fast friends, and any awkwardness that might have occurred had been totally avoided. It was a nice party, but Courfeyrac was still miserable. He was standing by the window when he heard the door opening again, he turned and found someone standing in his door, bundled from head to toe. Snow covered every available surface of the man, with his tall frame and broad shoulders Courfeyrac figured it definitely must be a man, and it was hard to see any feautres for he was wrapped in a hat and scarf. Courfeyrac stood still, heart pounding. The man unwound his scarf and took of his hat.  
_ _

__Combeferre had come home.  
_ _

__Courfeyrac ran to him and hugged him, tears in his eyes. “How…?”  
_ _

__Combeferre laughed, “god I missed you. Don't cry. I'm home.”  
_ _

__“You idiot, I called you and called and –”  
_ _

__“I was on a plane all day.”  
_ _

__“But how? With all this snow?”  
_ _

__“I flew into Philadelphia. From there I took a train as close as I could get, and after that I called a cab. I wasn't going to miss another Christmas with you. I had to come home,” Combeferre replied.  
_ _

__Courfeyrac kissed his boyfriend. “I missed you.”  
_ _

__“I know. I'm sorry you had to wait so long. Looks like a good party, though.”  
_ _

__“There's a lot of new people you need to meet.” And then Courfeyrac stage whispered, “Enj has a boyfriend!”  
_ _

__There was laughter around the room as Enjolras buried his head into Grantaire's shoulder.  
_ _

__“Is that so? Well once I warm up a bit I've got one more stop to make tonight.”  
_ _

__“Where?” Courfeyrac asked anxiously, he had just gotten Combeferre home and didn't want to lose sight of him again.  
_ _

__“I promised I would take this young lady home,” Combeferre said.  
_ _

__From the hallway stepped an equally bundled up young woman. She had dark features which were immediately recognized by those who knew her.  
_ _

__“Azelma?” Eponine exclaimed setting down her coffee. “What are you? How?”  
_ _

__The older woman rushed to hug her sister and was soon joined by Gavroche.  
_ _

__“How did you get here?” Eponine asked.  
_ _

__“I got a flight to Philly, since New York was covered in snow, figuring that maybe I could crash with R's family and they would give me a ride. Then I met Combeferre in the train station. We chatted and turns out we were both trying to come home to family. He offered to help me get to New York, and after checking in with his boyfriend he would get me safely home...what are you doing here?”  
_ _

__“Grantaire's beau invited us,” Eponine confided.  
_ _

__“R! You have a boyfriend!” squealed Azelma.  
_ _

__“Jeez, do you have to let the whole world know?” Grantaire said pretending to be angry.  
_ _

__The other guests laughed.  
_ _

__Eponine turned to Combeferre, “thank you for helping bring my sister home. You don't know what this means to us.”  
_ _

__Combeferre smiled. “I am glad that she has found her family.”  
_ _

__-  
_ _

__The two travelers were quickly served what was left of the hot food and were welcomed into the living room. Gavroche lay sleepily between his two sisters, content. His one Christmas wish had come true.  
_ _

__Someone brushed by the tree and a bell rang out clearly.  
_ _

__“My teacher says, every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings,” he murmured tiredly.  
_ _

__However both Cosette and Eponine heard him. The two women made eye contact before looking over at Jehan who was delightedly chatting with Bahorel. Feuilly asleep on the latter's shoulder.  
_ _

__Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were curled up on the loveseat, a tangle of limbs. They seemed content with their lot in life as they chatted quietly with one another.  
_ _

__Courfeyrac and Combeferre were swaying together to the soft music. They held each other close. There were a lot of forehead kisses involved, and tangling together of fingers.  
Marius sat at Cosette's feet. She played gently with his hair, soothing him with her repetitive motions. He took out his pocket watch to check the time, and found that he didn't really care how late it was. He was here among friends.  
_ _

__Enjolras and Grantaire sat together holding hands.  
_ _

__“I like you. A lot,” Enjolras murmured into Grantaire's curls.  
_ _

__“Good thing I like you too.”  
_ _

__“I know my friends tease me a lot about the lack of romance in my life, but I really would like you to be my boyfriend...if you're amenable that is.”  
_ _

__“If I'm amenable? Enjolras, you are certifiably insane. How could you even ask a thing like that?” Grantaire said his words dripping with amusement.  
_ _

__“Well consent is important –”  
_ _

__“Yes dear, but would you mind shutting up? I'd rather like to kiss my boyfriend,” Grantaire said with a shy smile.  
_ _

__Enjolras stopped. The blond nodded, and soon his lips met Grantaire's. It was a brief kiss, chaste due to the fact that they were with company, but none the less it was sweet.  
_ _

__“Better,” Grantaire said softly. “Everything is better with you.”  
_ _

__Outside the snow continued to fall._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, dear readers. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. Please leave any final thoughts below, I would love to hear them...maybe I'll even do something like this next year. Who knows? I certainly don't, but any feedback would be awesome. I feel so grateful to you all, thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to read my fic. Below I will list all the sources I drew inspiration from.  
> And may your days be merry and bright ~  
> TheWeaverofWorlds  
> \---------  
> C/C: The Homecoming by Earl Hammner Jr.  
> E/R: George Balanchine's The Nutcracker (and also the novel by ETA Hoffman)  
> Marius and Cosette: Gift of the Magi by O. Henry  
> Feuilly and Bahorel: Miracle on 34th Street by Valentine Davies  
> Jehan: It's a Wonderful Life by Frank Capras  
> J/B/M: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens  
> Title: Silver Bells (It's Christmas Time in the City) by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans  
> Chapters: 12 Days of Christmas


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